She laughed when he told her his idea. "Albus, you are mad!"

"So I've been told many times." He twinkled at her. "But you must admit the idea has merit."

"Nonsense! The idea is – quite outrageous!"

"Is it?" he asked her calmly. "You do yourself a disservice by thinking so. You are known throughout the wizarding community, Minerva McGonagall. Known for your ability, your intelligence, and your absolute fairness. And everyone now also knows of your fearlessness through your work for the order – and your courage on the battlefield. You have all the abilities required to make an exceptional Minister of Magic – in truth, you would be much better than I could ever hope to be. How is such an idea outrageous?"

She stood up, too unnerved to continue sitting. "It's still ridiculous. I have no political experience nor any inclination in that direction."

"Have you not, Minerva? As a student I remember you as ambitious; and you have risen to be the very best Deputy Hogwarts has ever had. But your abilities are exceptional, Professor McGonagall, and you have not yet reached their limit. You are one of the greatest witches alive; are you truly content to spend your life at Hogwarts?"

"Yes!"

He held up his hand. "Please, Minerva, think on this. Do not give an immediate answer. Consider what you could achieve as the Minister of Magic."

"I do not need to consider it, Albus." Her voice was low and forceful. She reseated herself, took a deep breath, tried to regain a sense of calm. "The answer is always going to be no. Like you, I am happiest at Hogwarts. And I will not leave it."

He sighed. "That is well enough for someone as old as I am, Minerva. You are still young; too young to make the decision to stay in one place for the rest of your life."

She laughed in derision. "One hundred and forty does not make you an ancient, Albus Dumbledore – not when we both know that you are powerful enough to live for at least another hundred years. As for my being too young to know my own mind, I should remind you that in another week I shall be seventy three, which is not an age known for youthful foolishness. Indeed, by Muggle standards, I'm the ancient one! And I tell you I am staying here."

He looked at the obstinate expression on her face and threw his hands in the air in surrender. "I yield! And, I will admit, I am somewhat relieved. I still believe that it would have been a most elegant solution; but I should hate to think of Hogwarts without you."

At a wave of his hand the loaded table between them vanished. He stood up and extended his hands to her. Taking them, she rose. "I will not leave Hogwarts, Albus."

"As you have made very clear." He kept hold of her hands. "And I am selfishly glad of it. You are my dearest friend, Minerva McGonagall; I trust you and rely on you more than you could ever know. And I –" He stopped, embarrassed, and released her. But she did not move away.

Looking deeply into his eyes, she said words she did not know she had the courage to say. "And you are my dearest friend, Albus Dumbledore." She took one of his larger hands in both her own small ones. "If it were only a question of leaving Hogwarts, then maybe, if I felt it would be for the greater good, then I could leave. But I will not leave you."

His eyes widened. Twining his long fingers around her hand he gently raised it to his lips and kissed her palm. A strange, pleasant feeling went through her at the touch of his lips.

Only a day ago she would never have thought of doing this; but a day ago she had not spent the entire day with the school buzzing of a supposed affair between herself and Albus, nor had she spent a night cradled in his arms. As he raised his head from her hand she felt herself move forward a few inches closer and raised her head to his. And kissed him.

For a moment only their lips touched tentatively. Then she felt his arms wind themselves around her waist and pull her closer, and her own arms reach toward him. And it seemed forever they stayed there, holding and kissing each other, and she was washed over with the strongest happiness she had ever known.

She never wanted it to end, and when he pulled away she heard herself moan softly in protest. And the sound of – applause?

The pictures on the wall! The former Headmasters and Headmistresses were clapping and cheering their encouragement! And the damned chair had changed back into a bed!

The crimson blush of the deepest embarrassment of her life flooded her skin. Refusing to look at Albus she ran as she had not in years, at a furious speed down the stairs and toward the safety of her temporary room in the Ravenclaw tower, where she could bury her head in the pillows of her narrow bed to hide her shame.

Albus watched her go, knowing there was no point in trying to stop her. Throwing the pictures on the wall a look of blackest fury he marched towards his bedroom and shut the door firmly. There he stood, trying to make sense of what had just happened.

But he could not make sense of it without reliving their kiss, or the feelings that had arisen in him as he had held her, kissed her, touched her… and when his mind replayed the small sound she had made when he had finally lifted his head he could not prevent a small smile from blossoming on his face. Perhaps the dream he had never allowed himself to consider was not so impossible after all?

She would want to forget it had ever happened; he knew her very well. Would it be so very wrong not to allow that?

"My Minerva," he said aloud, as he had said in his mind a thousand times, and wondered if the words were a prophecy.

*********************************************

In the abandoned study there was silence. Then a small voice spoke up. "In retrospect, the bed was probably a mistake."

From the wall came Phineas Nigellus' sneering voice. "Oh, and cheering like idiots wasn't?"

"Don't be smart, Phineas." Dilys Derwent lounged gracefully against her frame. "We've been watching those two young fools dance around each other for decades. Who can blame us for losing a little self control when they finally realised what they mean to each other?"

Armando Dippet sighed. "And Merlin knows it's taken them long enough to get around to it. Dumbledore wasn't this thick when he was a student!" He sat back on his painted chair with a sigh of discouragement.

"Time enough – and enough effort from you romantic lot. Opening the doorway to his bedroom last night, and then refusing to let her out; changing the bed back to a chair and back to a bed again just now… We are only pictures, in case you haven't noticed," Phineas pointed out. "We have a limited amount of magical ability, and you are all wasting it on nonsense."

"Good point," Dilys said briskly. "So let's not waste yours, Phineas. Why don't you mosey along to the Black house and find out if anyone's home? Let's see if we can get a glimpse of these escaped Death Eaters."

Phineas drew himself up. "I only have to take orders from the current Headmaster, Dilys."

"True," Dilys' voice was pleasant. 'But the dear boy's a little confused right now and isn't thinking straight enough to issue the order. So you'll take the order from me in his stead, won't you, Phineas dear?"

"No, I will not – ouch!"

"I'm sorry, you said something?"

"How the hell did you do that?" His voice was outraged – and a little scared.

"Never mind how I did it," Dilys said calmly. "It's enough that I did – and that you know I can do it again if necessary. Run along, Phineas."

They could hear his grumbling fade away as he left his portrait.

"As for these two, I could kick the silly girl for running away like that! Never mind, though." Dilys Derwent's face had an expression on it that used to make students and teachers alike run for cover. "I'll have those two together if I have to lock them in this study for the next century!"

Armando looked at her fondly. "Remind me never to get on your bad side, Dilys."

"Why, Armando dear, as if you ever could."

The two pictures smiled at each other and, along with the other portraits, waited for Phineas Nigellus to come back with news.