A/N: For Cheeky's Valentine Drabble Collection Competition. KingsleyMinerva, prompt: exhaustion.
Disclaimer: I wish I owned Harry Potter, but alas, it's a pipe dream.
"You look exhausted, Minerva," Kingsley spoke, his deep voice filling the empty room. She was thankful for the quiet— just the memory of all of the arguing was enough to make her head pound.
Minerva started, before relaxing. Of course it would be him. It usually was.
"Can you tell? I didn't even hear you come in." She shuffled a few maps around and waved her wand, tidying up the mess of papers left strewn about the dining table and watched as they slipped into the waiting file folder. Kingsley shifted forward into the dim light of the chandelier, revealing his purpose. In his hands were two cups, balanced precariously on saucers.
Setting them down with a dull thump, Kingsley joined Minerva in her cleaning duties, handing her blueprints of some Ministry branches in France— if they could infiltrate the French Ministry, then perhaps they could rally for support in the war. That was the plan anyways.
Casting a tight smile to Kingsley, Minerva dropped into the seat across from him, lifting the cup to her lips. A cough sputtered from her lips, her eyes widening in surprise— she stared at an amused Kingsley.
"Firewhiskey. You looked like you needed it."
Swallowing the last of the burn, she laughed gently, "I guess I did, didn't I? We all do." Minerva watched Kingsley's smile fall, and suddenly she was sorry she'd said anything.
"The war makes us tired, Minerva— it should. But it can't last forever. He can't run forever." Kingsley's hand covered hers, and she was comforted by his warm fingers over hers. The sting of the firewhiskey sliding down her throat was bitter and hot, but she found she didn't quite mind. Kingsley's gaze found hers and he smiled up at her, his brown eyes warm. Trying to ignore the odd thrum of her heart, Minerva lifted the cup of strong stuff to her lips.
"You're right, it can't last forever," she murmured before draining the last of the hardy alcohol and set her cup down with a clatter. Briefly noticing that Kingsley still hadn't let go of her hand, she felt her cheeks flush. The way he was looking at her, his kind gaze, his warm smile— it was the alcohol, it had to be. There was no way she could feel this way, certainly not about Kingsley. Those dayshad long passed her by.
"If you'll excuse me, I think I'll try to get some rest." Standing abruptly, she clutched the file closer as she pulled her hand away. Kingsley nodded and stood to open the door to the thin hallway and spoke before she left.
"If you ever need… support, Minerva, I'm here." With a reassuring smile, he stood aside, and as she moved into the cramped hallway, she was suddenly not so certain that the heat coursing through her was entirely due to the alcohol.
"Thank you, Kingsley," she smiled nervously. "But next time, bring the whole bottle."
His chuckle echoed long after she left.
A/N: I kind of love these two now.