It was only a few hours later that she awoke and knew Albus was in pain.

She looked around, disoriented by the darkened study. Slivers of moonlight crept in through the diamond paned windows, barely enough to see by. It took her a minute or two to see that the bedroom door had reappeared.

"Albus?"

There was no sound, but she couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. And the door would only have appeared if he had wanted it to… Before her common sense could catch up with her, she slipped out of the bed – "Ouch!" - painfully.

She hobbled through the door and hesitated.

There was a shape huddled beneath the bedclothes. As she watched, her common sense now telling her that she shouldn't be here, the shape emitted a low moan. Common sense held no sway at that.

"Lumos!" a startled Albus Dumbledore cried out as her hand touched his shoulder. Minerva McGonagall jumped ten feet without benefit of magic, blushing furiously as the bedroom candles sparkled into light.

"Minerva?"

"I heard you crying – I'm dreadfully sorry, I shouldn't have - "

"Minerva." He stopped for a moment, trying to work out what to say. Clad in her cream petticoat, with her surprisingly long hair in a plait down her back and her face suffused with the deepest blush he had ever seen on her face she looked very different from the Minerva McGonagall he had known for the past fifty years.

She tried to save him the trouble of speaking by wheeling around to run through the door – which had disappeared. She turned, now obviously aware of what she was wearing, and snapped, "Albus, please create that wretched door!"

"Accio dressing gown." His dressing gown, a fantastical creation in purple and gold, flew from his cupboard. He tossed it towards her.

She grabbed it and held it against herself quickly, but did not put it on. "If you would be so kind as to create the doorway back to your study, then there would be no need for me to borrow your clothes."

He made no move to do so.

She tried again. "I do apologise for coming in; I acted foolishly. Please create the door," her voice fairly crackled with ice at this request, "and we can both get back to sleep."

He gave a half-smile. "But as you observed, Minerva, I was not sleeping; I was – crying."

Her face softened dramatically.

"I think, just this one night, if you would feel comfortable, I should greatly prefer it if you stay." He took a deep breath. "Please, Minerva. Nothing would comfort me so much as having you near."

She struggled with it for a moment, then put the dressing gown on and belted it tightly. "This doesn't fit."

"I can shrink it if you'd like to keep it?"

"Don't you dare!" She looked shocked. "I have a perfectly good dressing gown of my own. Besides, this is too extravagant. And it isn't my colour."

"I think it looks quite wonderful." He meant it. The deep purple brought out the faint rose still lingering in her cheeks and made her look decades younger.

She snorted her opinion of his taste and, sitting on the edge of his bed, took his outstretched hand in both of hers. His face was etched deep with weariness. "I will be near you all night, Albus. Sleep now."

He looked at her, so tired herself. "And how will you sleep like that?"

"I don't have the Wizengamot to deal with in the morning. I can sleep then."

He shifted over in the bed. "Lie down."

"Albus!"

"Minerva. We have both had what is possibly the worst day of our lives, and we are both too old and too tired to worry about proprieties." He stopped, reconsidered. "Well, I am too old, and you are too tired. Please, lie down. You can stay on top of the bedclothes if it will satisfy your sense of decorum."

Her own sense of fatigue agreed with what he was saying. Still holding his hand, she manoeuvred herself carefully on top of the bed and lay rigidly near him. He smiled his thanks as she uttered her last shot. "With your dressing gown, I don't need blankets. It wraps around me twice, and is a foot too long to boot!"

With a shrug and a half laugh, he finally closed his eyes. In a few minutes he had fallen asleep, still holding her hand.

She could not find rest so easily. She had never shared a bed before, and the sensation of company was not comfortable. She gazed around the candlelit chamber, and wondered whether she should put out the lights. After a while, she decided against it. She had not been crying, but she still felt the effects of the day, and a fully darkened room was not something she wanted just then. It was too easy for the nightmares to find you in the dark.

Albus moaned softly. She looked over at him anxiously, but he was still deeply asleep. She gave his hand a gentle squeeze to reassure him she was there. In response he rolled over and encircled her with his free arm. She started to try to extricate herself, but then she felt his tears wetting her hair. Against her cheek he muttered a word – her name?

Awkwardly her arms rose up around his back and cradled him against her as he cried the tears that could not come out while he was awake. In unconscious response his own arms tightened around her, and the tears eventually stopped.

In a close embrace with Albus Dumbledore, wrapped in his dressing gown and lying atop his bed, Minerva McGonagall found a dreamless sleep with an ease that surprised her.