A./N.: Hi guys, I hope you love this chapter as much as I do ... (Considerably) ... and feel happy for Minerva and Albus. Thank you so much for all the 'Happy Birthday'-wishes from everybody. It was so nice that you thought of me. :) Well, here is my thanks, enjoy and review!

Coming home at last

Minerva walked apprehensively toward the rooms she shared with her husband. Molly was right, of course, she had hurt many people since her recovery. First she had been so unbearably distant to Albus and then not being a very good friend to Molly who needed her strength. She had reached the door unnoticed and bumped into the door. Rubbing her head and mumbling dark things under her breath, she focused her gaze on the portrait guarding the door and said the password. The portrait's occupant smirked at her and swung to the side.

Albus was not in their living room or bedroom. Minerva could think of only one other place, the library. That's where she went next in her search for her husband. She found him sitting on a small table with a book in front of him and quill in hand. He always said that when he was troubled work was the best remedy. Minerva smiled at the scene in front of her.

Suddenly Albus lifted his head and turned toward her as if sensing her presence.

"Minerva, what are you doing here? I thought you were with Molly", he said surprised.

"Do you want me to go?"

"No! Of course not! I just thought I would have to go and get you, not that you came to me."

"I know when I was unjust and in the wrong. I'm also not small-minded and can apologise", she said defiantly, regretting it almost immediately.

Albus, though, smiled and got up from his chair.

"I'm sorry. I know you're noble and strict, even with yourself. What gives me the honour of your visit?" he asked mockingly. Minerva glared at him but only momentarily, then a broad smile split her face in two.

"I came to you to apologise. You did what you had to do to save me. I thank you for that and apologise for being over-dramatic", she said sincerely.

"That's quite all right. Now why do you think the hysterectomy changed your life?"

Minerva sighed heavily but told her husband what she had told Molly and Narcissa. Albus held his wife close to himself and reassured her that she was still woman enough for him. Minerva broke down crying. She had known Albus loved her very much but this was so much more than she deserved. Albus watched his wife sobbing her heart and soul out and picked her up swiftly. He carried her to their bedroom and sat down on the chaise with her on his lap. After a while Minerva calmed down enough to wipe away the tears and smile shakily at Albus.

"Do you want me to go?" The blood was pounding thickly in Minerva's ears.

"No!" Albus swung quickly toward her and gripped her shoulder tightly, making her pull back involuntarily. "No", he said, more quietly."I don't want you to go. I told you so, and I meant it." He bent his head toward her, his face alive with troubled question.

"Will you ..." He stopped, the flush deepening on his features, but met her eyes, swallowed once and went on. "Will you come to bed with me, then? I mean", he hurried on, "it's cold and we are both tired and ..."

"And the chairs are terribly uncomfortable", Minerva finished for him. "All right." She pulled her hand loose from his and turned toward the bed, feeling a queer mix of excitement and hesitance that made her breath come short.

Albus pulled off his trousers and stockings quickly, then glanced at her.

"I'm sorry, Mina. I should have thought you would need help with your dress."

"Thank you", she murmured, "if you'd give me a hand in the back there ..."

The zipper teeth parted with a muted ripping noise and the dress sagged free. Minerva pulled her arms out of the sleeves and let the dress drop heavily around her feet, turning to face Albus before she lost her nerve.

He jerked back, startled by this sudden chrysalis-shedding. Then he blinked and stared at her.

Minerva stood in front of him in nothing but her shoes and underwear. She had an overwhelming urge to snatch the dress back up, but she resisted it. She stiffened her spine, raised her chin, and waited.

He didn't say a word. His eyes gleamed in the candlelight as he moved his head slightly, but he still didn't say a word.

"Will you bloody say something?" Minerva demanded at last, in a voice that shook only a little.

His mouth opened, but no words came out. He shook his head slowly from side to side.

"Jesus", he whispered at last. "Minerva ... you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen."

"You", Minerva said with conviction, "are losing your eyesight. At your age it's probably cataracts."

He laughed at that, a little unsteadily, and then Minerva saw that he was in fact blinded. His eyes shone with moisture, even as he smiled. He blinked hard and held out his hand.

"I", he said, with equal conviction, "have got eyes like a hawk and always did. Come here to me."

A little reluctantly, Minerva took his hand and stepped out of the inadequate shelter of the heap of her dress. Albus drew her gently in, to stand between his knees as he sat on the back. Then he kissed her softly, once on each breast, and laid his head between them, his breath coming warm on her ivory skin and scars.

"Your breast is like ivory", he said softly. His hand rose to cup one breast, his fingers tanned into darkness against her own pale glow.

"I couldn't look at you, Tabby, and keep my hands from you, nor have you near me and not want you." He lifted his head then, and planted a kiss over her heart, then let his hand float down the gentle curve of her belly, lightly tracing the scars left there by Tom's torturing.

"You ... really don't mind?" Minerva said hesitantly, brushing her own fingers over her chest.

Albus smiled up at her with something half-rueful in his expression. He hesitated for a moment, then drew Minerva closer. He reached to touch her chest, his eyes holding hers.

"You bear the scars of your battles, Tabby", he said softly, "they don't trouble me."

Albus lifted his wife to the bed beside him then and leaned to kiss her. Minerva kicked off her shoes and curled her legs up, feeling the warmth of Albus through his shirt. Her palms found the button at the throat, fumbling to open it.

"I want to see you."

"Well, it's not much to see, Tabby", he said, with an uncertain laugh at their old joke. "But whatever it is, it's yours ... if you want it."

He pulled the shirt over his head and tossed it on the floor, then leaned back on the palms of his hands, displaying his body.

Minerva didn't know quite what she had been expecting. In fact, the side of his naked body took her breath away. He was still tall and beautifully made. He glowed in the candlelight, as though the light came from within him.

Her eyes met his and his mouth quirked suddenly. Minerva reached toward him, hesitant, and he took her hand. The strength and warmth of it were startling and she jerked slightly. Then she tightened her grasp and he rose to his feet, facing her.

They stood still then, awkwardly hesitating. They were intensely aware of each other ... how could they not be? Minerva had a feeling of empty-bellied terror.

"Are you as scared as I am?" Minerva finally said, sounding hoarse to her own ears.

Albus looked her over carefully and raised one eyebrow.

"I don't think I can be", he said. "You're covered with gooseflesh. Are you scared, Tabby, or only cold?"

"Both", Minerva said and Albus laughed.

"Get in, then", he said. He released her hand and bent to turn back the quilt.

Minerva didn't stop shaking when he slid under the quilt beside her, though the heat of his body was a physical shock.

"Do you want me now?" Minerva whispered.

Albus didn't answer, but moved abruptly, so Minerva felt the hardness of him stiff against her belly

It was terror as much as desire that pressed her close against him. Minerva wanted him, all right. Her breasts ached and her belly was tight with it, the almost forgotten rush of arousal slippery between her legs, opening her for him. But as strong as lust was the desire simply to be taken, to have him master her, quell her doubts in a moment of rough usage, take her hard and swiftly enough to make her forget herself.

Minerva could feel the urge to do it tremble in the hands that cupped her buttocks, in the involuntary jerk of his hips, brought up short as she stopped himself.

Do it, she thought, in an agony of apprehension. For God's sake, do it now and don't be gentle!

Minerva couldn't say it. She saw the need of it on his face but he couldn't say it, either. It was both too soon and too late for such words between them.

But they had shared another language and her body still recalled it. Minerva pressed her hips against him sharply, grasping his, the curves of his buttocks clenched hard under her hands. She turned her face upward, urgent to be kissed, at the same moment that he bent abruptly to kiss her.

Her nose hit his forehead with a sickening crunch. Her eyes watered profusely as she rolled away from him, clutching her face.

"Ow!"

"Christ, have I hurt you, Minerva?" Blinking away the tears, Minerva could see his face, hovering anxiously over her.

"No", she said stupidly. "My nose is broken, though, I think."

"When you break your nose, it makes a nasty crunching sound and you bleed terribly. It's all right."

Minerva felt gingerly beneath her nostrils, but he was right. She wasn't bleeding. The pain had receded quickly, too. As she realized that, she also realized that he was lying on her, her legs sprawled wide beneath him, his cock just touching her, nor more than a hairs-breadth from the moment of decision.

Minerva saw the realization dawn in his eyes as well. Neither of them moved, barely breathing. Then his chest swelled as he took a deep breath, reached and took both her wrists in one hand. He pulled them up, over her head, and held her there, her body arched taut and helpless under him.

"Give me your mouth, Tabby", he said softly and bent to her. His head blotted out the candlelight and Minerva saw nothing but a dim glow and the darkness of his flesh as his mouth touched hers. Gently, brushing, then pressing, warm, and she opened to him with a little gasp, his tongue seeking hers.

Minerva bit his lip and he drew back a little, startled.

"Albus", she said against his lips, her own breath one between them. "Albus!" That was all she could say, but her hips jerked against him and jerked again, urging violence. She turned her head and fastened her teeth in the flesh of his shoulder.

Albus made a small sound deep in his throat and came into her hard. She was still hurting and cried out, arching under him.

"Don't stop!" she said. "For God's sake, don't stop!"

Albus' body heard her and answered in the same language, his grasp of her wrists tightening as he plunged hard into her, the force of it reaching her with each stroke.

Then he let go of her wrists and half fell on her, the weight of him pinning her to the bed as he reached under, holding her hips hard, keeping her immobile.

Minerva whimpered and writhed against him and he bit her neck.

"Be still", he said in her ear. She was still, only because she couldn't move. They lay pressed tight together, shuddering. She could feel the pounding against her ribs, but didn't know whether it was her heart, or his.

Then he moved in her, very slightly, a question of the flesh. It was enough. Minerva convulsed in answer, held helpless under him, and felt the spasms of her release stroke him, seize and release him, urging him to join her.

Albus reared up on both hands, back arched and head thrown back, eyes closed and breathing hard. Then very slowly, he bent his head forward and opened his eyes. He looked down at her with unutterable tenderness and the candlelight gleamed briefly on the wetness on his cheeks, maybe sweat or maybe tears.

"Oh, Minerva", he whispered. "Oh, God, Minerva."

And his release began, deep inside her, without his moving, shivering through his body so that his arms trembled, and he dropped his head with a sound like a sob, his hair hiding his face as he spilled himself, each jerk and pulse of his flesh between her legs rousing an echo in her own.

When it was over, he held himself over her, still as stone for a long moment. Then, very gently, he lowered himself, pressed his head against hers, and lay very still.