Hello again! Here is the latest installment of The Journey, brought to you by yours truly. Thanks alot for all of the great reviews, hope you keep it up! I had a lot of fun writing this chapter, and I ended it when it seemed natural, so I apologize if it's not as long as others. Hopefully it will satisfy you until I can get another up. :)

There's one thing I would like to try. I do have an outline and everything, but if there is something you'd really like to see happen, either now or in later chapters, let me know via review or message and I'll try to work it in best I can. :) Anyway, Enjoy!

Confrontation, And Then Again

Minerva did not bother returning the smile that Connor offered her at breakfast. She sat down at her spot, also not bothering to greet Dumbledore. She and Albus had been spending less and less time with each other over the past two weeks, when Connor had first arrived. At first, Minerva had attributed it to the fact that she was constantly occupied with something, either working, with her brother, or, in her spare moments, eating. But she slowly began to suspect that Albus was deliberately distancing himself from her.

And Minerva knew Albus well enough to have a very shrewd idea about why he was doing it. He was not angry with her, nor upset or indifferent. He was, she thought, simply giving her space on the chance that she and Connor got back together. Minerva closed her eyes and silently cursed Timothy Blake.

There had been an incident a few years back, when Minerva was fifty-four. She'd been courting with a kind (or so she thought) man she'd met at a ministry function, Timothy Blake. They'd had a warm, casual relationship until Timothy had come to Hogwarts for Christmas to surprise Minerva. He'd walked in on Minerva and Albus having a serious conversation in her office about whether or not Hogsmeade visits were still safe for the students (You-Know-Who had reached his peak of terror). He'd entirely misinterpreted the situation and had ended up screaming, with Albus still in the room, that it was impossible to have a proper relationship with her because of Dumbledore. He'd accused her disloyalty to him, which for Minerva had been a low blow. When Minerva had kicked Timothy out, she'd turned to find Albus very sombre. He'd apologized once, and from then on, whenever Minerva had a man in her life, Albus would go to lengths to make sure that her man saw he wasn't a threat. Minerva hated it.

And now it was happening again. She sighed. Term started in just a week, and Minerva had finally given in and was working full days in order to repair the castle in time for the first of September. Recognizing that it wasn't possible, Minerva had arranged for the Magical Maintenance crew to come every week, on Saturdays, to finish the job during the year. Between that, Connor, who vied for her attention, and Bran, Minerva had rarely had a chance to talk to Albus. She didn't bother eating this morning, after a quick glance at a clock told her it was ten to nine, but finished her tea and rose. She knew she'd lost weight, but she hardly cared at this point. The sooner term started and everyone had things to do, the happier she'd be.

There was a flip side to her happiness, though. As far she knew, Bran would be staying only until term started. Non-staff at Hogwarts were not permitted in the castle during the year for a certain length of time or longer, unless they were married to a staff member. So Bran would have to go. The thought saddened her. She rarely saw her brother, but she knew that it was mainly her fault. Bran was unattached and had a good career with flexible hours. It was Minerva's isolation that caused the problems.

When Minerva stood up, Bran followed suit. He offered her a lopsided grin and followed her out into the corridor. He ran a hand through his hair, black like Minerva's, but thick and tousled. They walked in silence for a moment. Then;

'So,' Bran said. Their steps were perfectly synchronized, the swish of their robes uniform. Minerva arched an eyebrow and said nothing.

'I've been here for two weeks,' said Bran, burying his hands deep in his robe pockets. 'Bit too long, in the eyes of the school governors.' Minerva sighed, almost inaudibly. The week that remained would be even busier than it was now, offering little spare time.

'You know the rules, I'm sure, Minerva,' Bran continued. 'I can't stay unless I marry someone here.' Bran chuckled a bit, but Minerva raised her eyebrows.

'Careful,' she warned him, speaking at last. 'I'd imagine there's someone here who probably would.' Bran looked genuinely surprised, but quickly recovered and grinned.

'Who? Someone with extensive mental damage?' he joked. Minerva glared at him.

'Enough jokes, Bran,' she snapped. 'What's your point?'

'My point, Minerva, is that I applied for a supervising role for the Magical Maintenance crew here at Hogwarts and got it. I'll be here at least once a week for another couple of months.'

Minerva's whole countenance changed at once. Her narrowed eyes and thin lips vanished and were replaced by shining eyes and an uncharacteristic look of delight. 'Are you serious?' she cried.

'Never been more serious in my life, little Min,' Bran told her, and Minerva hugged him hard.

'That's wonderful, Bran! It'll certainly help to have someone else with any sense on the crew, if nothing else,' she said. 'And you'll be here for Christmas, too!' Then she sobered. 'And I was right terrible to you not five minutes ago, wasn't I? Merlin, I'm sorry, Bran. I don't know why I'm so irritable these days.'

'Minerva!' called a voice behind them, and the siblings turned and found Connor hurrying up the corridor.

'Scratch that,' Minerva muttered under her breath. 'I know exactly why.'

'Morning, Mr McGonagall,' Connor said politely to Bran, who nodded in return. Minerva gave Bran a if-you-leave-me-alone-with-this-man-I-will-hunt-you-down-and-kill-you look. Bran raised his eyebrows slightly but fell in step next to the other two.

When they reached the grounds, Bran could find no other excuse to stay with Minerva. He gave her a part-apologetic, part-mischievous smile and departed. Connor nodded his farewell and waited until Bran had gone back inside before turning to Minerva.

'I was wondering, Minerva,' Connor began, and Minerva closed her eyes and dreaded what was coming next. 'If you would care to share a drink in Hogsmeade later? I find myself rather wanting of your company.' He looked at her so hopefully, so sweetly, that Minerva gritted her teeth and reminded herself that she had fallen out of love with this man lifetimes ago. She was not a cruel person, but drinking with Connor was not going to happen.

'I'm busy tonight, I'm afraid,' she told him as gently as she could – which wasn't very. 'Surely you've noticed that term is starting in a week, Connor?' she asked, doing her utmost to keep the sarcasm from her voice. 'I am very busy, I'm sorry. Not today.'

To his credit, Connor did not look disappointed. In fact, he only looked concerned. 'Of course that's alright, Minerva! I'm sorry; I shouldn't have asked when I know that you have so much more to do than me. I'm sorry, really; I shouldn't have tempted you.'

Minerva gritted her teeth again. Tempted her? Irritated the hell out of, more like. 'Yes, well,' she said briskly, 'if you'll excuse me…' Connor looked confused for a moment before he cottoned on.

'Right! Well, I'll see at lunch, I hope, Minerva,' he told her. And he looked so honestly hopeful that Minerva felt, for a moment, instantly horrible for refusing him. But the feeling soon dissipated and Connor left. Minerva rubbed her temples and seriously considered retirement.

'You look tired, Albus,' Filius squeaked to Dumbledore at the breakfast table. 'Perhaps you need a pick-me-up at the Three Broomsticks this evening?'

Albus smiled tiredly at the tiny man. 'I appreciate the thought, Filius, but I rather think that an early bedtime might be more efficient than a nightcap.' Filius chuckled and nodded.

'You are right, of course, Albus,' he said with a smile. 'Only do let me know if there's something I can do?'

Albus nodded and assured him he would. Truth be told, Albus kind of felt as though he could use a drink, but he had heard Connor mention to Trudy that he was going to ask Minerva to the Three Broomsticks tonight; Albus wasn't going anywhere near Hogsmeade today.

He honestly hated what he did to Minerva: all of the distancing and coolness towards her, he knew, probably hurt her. But he would not stand in the way of another relationship of hers ever again, even if he wanted to.

That right there was a thought he'd never wanted to have. Of course he didn't want to stand in the way of Minerva and her relationships, to do so would be immoral and rude and perfectly selfish. Because Albus did rather want her all to himself.

Shaking his head at his thoughts, Albus trudged up to his office and worked for the next few hours. He paused only to talk to Fawkes, who trilled a sympathetic note and flared his beautiful wings.

'I don't know, Fawkes,' Albus said, stroking the phoenix fondly. 'I am being selfish, aren't I? I warned Harry of this flaw of mine, but somehow I don't think he believed me.' He smiled faintly. 'If only he could see me now.' Fawkes fluttered onto Albus' shoulder for a time before flying out the window.

Albus skipped lunch and worked meticulously until half-past two, when there was a knock at his door. The portraits, who had been napping, jerked awake. The visitor didn't bother to wait for an answer from within before sweeping inside.

It was Minerva, and she was angry. Albus couldn't keep the surprise off his face, nor the trepidation. He was in trouble, he thought.

'What are you doing?' Minerva demanded, stopping just short of the other side of his desk. Albus sensed that this wasn't an academic-related meeting and stood up, coming around from behind his desk.

'I am working, Minerva,' he replied carefully. Minerva's lips thinned; always a bad sign.

'No,' she snapped angrily. 'That's not what I meant. Why are you avoiding me?'

'Minerva,' Dumbledore began, 'you know that I –.'

'No,' Minerva interrupted, looking furious. 'I don't know, not about this. I've had it, Albus! I'm tired of you pretending you don't know me every time a man walks into the room!' She really did look very angry.

'I don't want to inadvertently get your way, Minerva,' he said slowly. 'I do not want to ruin your chances and your relationships like I did before.'

'Why is that?' Minerva demanded, but to Albus' surprise, he detected no sarcasm in the question. She honestly wanted to know.

'If relationships make you happy, Minerva, I do not want to take that away from you,' Albus told her gently.

Minerva shook her head. 'You make me unhappy when you do this, Albus. It feels like you push me out of your life and into someone else's every time I get involved with someone. You are afraid of taking away my happiness, yet you do so when you reject me under these circumstances.'

Albus couldn't speak, not yet, but Minerva wasn't done. 'If a man can't accept my relationship with you, Albus, then he isn't the sort of person I want to get involved with. I don't intend to give up my friendships in order to be with someone, Albus. I'm not that sort of person, and frankly, I'm insulted that you'd think that of me.'

'Minerva,' Albus began, his mouth dry.

She shook her head. 'No, there are no reasons for this, Albus. If you truly do not want to talk to me any longer, then say so. Is this the case?'

'No, Minerva, no, of course not!' Albus said, horrified at the very thought.

'Then stop this foolishness and wake up. You are important to me. Not Connor or anyone else is going to change that, and it's foolish of them – or you – to try.'

Albus swallowed. 'Minerva, you know how much you mean to me. I don't mean to hurt you, I promise you.' This was harder than admitting it to himself. Now he faced her, not his own thoughts.

'I thought I knew, Albus, but now I'm afraid I'm not so sure. Do I mean so little to you that you are comfortable with the thought of never speaking to me again? Because this is what I understand when you push me away. This is the message I am getting.'

'That is not the message I am trying to send,' Albus told her, his eyes burning into her face. 'I am trying, in my own introverted, convoluted way to be unselfish, to allow others to have y – to have time with you.'

'Unselfish?' Minerva repeated, as though this wasn't a term she understood or expected.

Albus smiled ruefully and breathed deeply. Tell her, a voice in his head insisted. 'I…I could keep you all to myself, if I had my way, Minerva. But this is not the case, nor will I allow it to be.' He was disgusted with himself. He ignored the voice is his head, the one calling him a coward.

Minerva swallowed and looked away, blinking quickly. She didn't speak for a moment.

'I'm glad that got sorted out then,' she said, not meeting his eyes. 'You will stop disregarding me, then? Good.' She glanced around, still avoiding his gaze. Albus watched her, willing her eyes to meet his.

'Good-afternoon, then, Dumbledore,' she said, and turned and left. The door swung shut behind her. The silence that prevailed was ringing and uninterrupted for a long moment.

Then; 'Gryffindors,' came the sneering, nasal voice of Phineas Nigellus. 'Always too noble for their own good.'

'Be quiet!' the portrait of the red-nosed Fortescue snapped at Phineas. 'Such rudeness!'

Dumbledore said nothing, but left the office for his own private chambers. He did not return.

Minerva steadied herself once outside his office. She braced her hands against the wall and bowed her head, breathing deeply and willing herself to stop shaking. She tried not to think, but Albus' voice resonated in her head again and again.

I could keep you all to myself, if I had my way, Minerva.

I could keep you all to myself.

All to myself.

'Enough!' she said aloud, so loudly she startled herself. She breathed deeply and started walking, where to she had no idea, but she needed to move and walking was a good start.

She walked, hardly knowing where she was going, trying to sort out the mess that her head was in. She attempted to muster up some sort of anger, disgust, anything, in response to Albus' statement. He could keep her all to himself, he'd said. That, said by any other man, would have provoked a rage. She would have asserted her independence, her unwillingness to be 'kept', by hexing the man who had said it with a – legal – variation of something that felt like the Cruciatus Curse. So why was Albus any different? If Connor had said it, Minerva was sure she'd have lost her temper. Why did Albus' statement make her feel like crying and laughing at the same time?

It was, Minerva decided with an amused smile, all Connor McKinley's fault. If he had never come to Hogwarts, Albus wouldn't have avoided her, she wouldn't have confronted him, and she wouldn't be as bloody confused as she was right now. So, with all the subtlety of a Hufflepuff, she laid the blame squarely on Connor's shoulders and set off in search of brother, pushing all thoughts of Albus to the back of her mind.

Minerva found herself outside the trophy room, and paused for a moment. She hadn't gone in here in ages, and she felt a strange urge to go inside now. She glanced along the corridor, surreptitiously searching for Filch, whom she thankfully hadn't seen a lot of this summer. They weren't on very good terms at the moment, not after she'd called him a 'blithering idiot' two months ago when You-Know-Who was laying siege to the school. More to the point, she'd ordered him to go find Peeves, his mortal enemy, an act Minerva doubted Filch would ever forgive.

Minerva stepped inside the musty room, the hem of her robes collecting the dust that lay on the floor. Filch evidently hadn't been doing much cleaning in here. She smiled to herself as she laid a hand on the Special Awards for Services to the School that Potter and Weasley had won in their second year for defeating Slytherin's monster. She glanced around, memories flooding her mind as the trophies glinted in the faint light. She pursed her lips and, once again looking around furtively, went to the back of the room and looked through the old trophies. The trophy room was emptied and the trophies stored away every century or so, so what she was looking for should still be here.

Ah, there it was: The Quidditch Cup of 1942. She rubbed the names with her sleeve and read them to herself until she reached her own. Minerva McGonagall, Chaser, it read, engraved in the dusty metal. She smiled, remembering her happiness, her joy at finally winning the Cup. She replaced the trophy carefully and stood up.

A laugh outside made Minerva whirl around, her hand jumping to her wand automatically. She raised her eyebrows at a thought and turned into her Animagus form.

It always felt good being a cat. It was so liberating, being able to let go of all the human worries and complications and just being. She loved her form, loved the grace and the slyness and the emphasised senses. Minerva slunk to the door and hid in a shadow, having no problem hearing. She would've felt bad about eavesdropping, but she smelled a scent she recognized as her brother, and the two hid nothing from each other.

'You're not serious?' came Trudy Crawford's laughing voice, and had Minerva been human, her eyebrows would've been so high they'd have disappeared. What was Trudy doing with her brother?

'Always am,' Bran said. Minerva doubted Trudy could hear it, but she sensed a tone of bafflement in her brother's voice. So, he too was confused as to what Trudy was doing with him.

'Actually Bran, I was wondering, well, Connor invited Minerva to the Three Broomsticks tonight, and I figured I would go along as well. Would you like to come?' Trudy wasn't sneaky enough to trick Bran into going with her when Minerva wasn't, so Connor must not have yet told her that she, Minerva, was not going. But why was she asking Bran? Pure courtesy did not demand that, Minerva was sure.

'Actually, I don't think Minerva can go,' Bran said. 'She mentioned it to me earlier. But if they do end up going, I may as well tag along.'

'Oh, well, that would be lovely,' Trudy replied, sounding odd. 'I'll see you at dinner, I suppose?'

'Bye, then,' Bran said, and Minerva heard footsteps echoing down the hallway. She transformed back and stepped out of her shadow just as Bran turned around.

He jumped, swearing. 'Bloody hell, Minerva! Don't do that to me.' Minerva arched an eyebrow and started away. Bran quickly caught up with her.

'So,' Minerva said, trying (and failing) to hide her amusement. 'On a first-name basis with my teachers already, Bran?' Bran shrugged.

'She's just being friendly, I expect,' Bran replied, not looking particularly analytical.

'By inviting you to Hogsmeade,' said Minerva. Bran nodded. 'To the Three Broomsticks.' He shrugged. 'For a drink,' Minerva finished. Bran finally looked at her.

'What's your point, little sis?' he asked.

Minerva gave up. She loved her brother dearly, but he was just a man, when it came right down to it. Minerva could be wrong, theoretically. It was possible that she was blowing this out of proportion, making something out of nothing. Perhaps Trudy was simply being friendly. Minerva could be wrong.

But she doubted it.

'How did you know I wasn't going, by the way?' she asked. 'I didn't speak to you about any such thing this morning.'

Bran grinned. 'Just figured that it wouldn't be on your list of priorities, going out with Connor.' He shrugged, still grinning. 'It being only a week to term and all. And then there's Dumbledore, of course,' he added, almost as an afterthought.

It took all of Minerva restraint not to stop there in the hallway and grab Bran's arm. 'What does that mean? What does Dumbledore have to do with it?'

'Where've you just been, before you saw me?' Bran asked, almost casually. Minerva reddened and scowled. Bran raised his eyebrows and smiled.

'I know the two haven't been talking too much the last few weeks, Minerva. I figured it had something to do with Connor. Also, you were never the type to date someone on and off. Once the relationship was done, that was it.' He paused and then added, 'It drove wizards crazy.'

Minerva did not deign to reply. She knew perfectly well that when she ended her relationship with a wizard in the heat of an argument, they expected her to send them an owl the next day. Minerva never did. When she said it was over, she meant it, and usually with little regret.

Bran let the subject drop and they chatted about other things until Minerva reached her office. Bran lounged on her couch while she worked on lesson plans until it was time for dinner. Both made their way to the staffroom. Minerva and Albus talked during the meal, both feeling much better for the return of the other's company.

When Minerva got into bed that night, she pulled the sheets up and turned on her side. One voice echoed infinitely in her mind: I could keep you all to myself, Minerva.

TBC

A/N: No offence intended to Hufflepuffs! Reviews, please! :) Hope you enjoyed!