Even In Death

by Albus.P.W.B.Dumbledore1891

The meeting and development in the relation of Albus Dumbledore and Minerva McGonagall as they progress from students to co-fighters to best friends to lovers for This is not just romance, it is a very long story of friendship, adventure/drama/humor/romance and whatever else you can ask for

5. Chapter 5

Declaimer: I do not own them

Author's Notes: keep reviewing please!

The warm days of August seemed to crawl for Minerva, and September first seemed to be ages away when she received an Owl from Albus.

"Dear Miss McGonagall,

"I trust that this letter finds you and your family well.

From your recent letters, I discern that you have made steady progress in your exercises, although it has been a bit hard on you given the circumstances of your family but I am pleased with your evident grasp of Animagus-theory. I will be returning to Hogwarts in a few days to prepare for the start of classes, and hope that you will be able to join me there two or three weeks before the beginning of term so that we may conduct an evaluation and determine what next steps we should pursue. Please share this letter with your uncle and ask whether you might return to Hogwarts on the morning of Friday, August 13. I shall be happy to come and retrieve you and your luggage so as to minimize any inconvenience to you or your family. It has been, however, quite some time since I have visited the muggle world, and I would appreciate it if you were to kindly supplement my memory and forward Apparition co-ordinates to me. It would be most embarrassing to arrive splinched!

"With hopes of seeing you soon,

"I remain
"Sincerely yours,

"Albus Dumbledore"

Minerva jumped with joy seeing the letter. So this is what he had meant when he had said she was going away only for a short span of time. She felt so relieved and exhilarated. Quickly she reached for a parchment and sent off Eos giving the locations of her uncle's house and her permission. Minerva rolled her eyes, what did he think she would reply? That she could not come back when she had been dying too all the last two weeks? Shaking her head she set off to inform her uncle. Her uncle and aunt had become more understanding and comfortable in the past two years after her lecture before her first year to Hogwarts. She was sure they would be more than happy though to get rid of her faster than usual. As predicted they had been very happy with the news though her uncle had frowned and asked her if she would be in any danger, he had readily agreed once reassured.

Minerva had spent the Thursday night packing her trunk and getting everything in order for her to leave as soon as Albus arrived. She had read and re-read his letter quite a few times. Her feelings for Albus seemed to have grown and even though she had tried to get rid of them they stayed on stubbornly. At last she had decided that there was nothing wrong in liking someone like Albus, so she was more comfortable now with her own feelings, relaxing her a great deal. Albus arrived punctually the next morning at eight-thirty to find Minerva and her uncle and aunt waiting for him. At the crack of his Apparition, Minerva stood from her seat on the trunk. "Ah, all ready to go, I see, Miss McGonagall! And you must be Madam McGonagall! Albus Dumbledore at your service," he said as he bent over her aunt's outstretched hand and lightly brushed his lips against her knuckles in approved muggle fashion. "Miss McGonagall." Albus reached for Minerva's hand and repeated the gesture. Minerva blushed. No one had ever seriously kissed her hand in greeting before.

Albus simply shrunk the trunk and her dark brown carpet bag with a wave of his hand, cast lightening Charms on them, then picked them up and put them in his one of his pockets. He cast another wand less lightening Charm on the blue carpet bag and hefted it in his left hand. "Yes, that will do nicely, I think," he said. "So, Miss McGonagall, are you accompanying your luggage today, or will you follow on tomorrow?" he asked with a twinkle. "Oh, yes, of course." Minerva stepped a bit closer to her professor. "Now how are you with Side-Along-Apparition, my dear, any nausea or dizziness?" "Um, well I have never. . . ." Minerva had avoided thinking about the embarrassing prospect of vomiting all over her Albus' robes, although she had taken the precaution of having only ginger tea and dry toast that morning. "Well, let's see what we can do about that." He turned to Minerva and held up his wand "With your permission?" and raised an eyebrow in question, and she nodded quickly. Dumbledore passed his wand over Minerva's head and chest. Little blue, gold, and green symbols drifted gently from the wand. "Hmm, yes," he mumbled, gazing at the symbols, which were completely cryptic to the others. "Yes, I do believe we can compensate for the variance." His words were as incomprehensible to Minerva as the symbols had been.

Albus picked the blue carpet bag up again and motioned for Minerva to draw closer. "You'll need to stand a bit nearer than usual, Miss McGonagall, for this to work." She hesitated only slightly, thinking of what her uncle and aunt would think. She really didn't want to be sick all over Albus' beautiful robes. "Come now, a bit closer. Mm-hm, that's right. Now, with your permission, I will place my right arm around your shoulders. Good girl. Now, if you would like to help?" Dumbledore looked down at his protégé's upturned face. "Yes sir. But I don't know how to Apparate and even if I did, I am not of age." "No worries. I would like you to do two things. First, you may place your head against my chest and listen for my heartbeat. Second, envision, as clearly as you can, the front gates of Hogwarts, as though you were standing and facing them from the outside. After you have found my pulse and have the gates firmly fixed in your mind, just nod." Minerva did not hesitate to follow her professor's latest instructions. She stepped in closer to him, closed her eyes, and laid her head on his chest. She listened for his heartbeat, and could almost imagine that she could feel the thrum of his magical core behind it. That accomplished, she envisioned the front gates, in detail, the exercises she had been performing over the whole last year making it easy for her to create a crystal clear picture in her mind. She nodded against his chest. It seemed that as soon as she had nodded, he was speaking to her.

"Well done, Minerva! I hope you have not fallen asleep!" Albus chuckled at her expression when she lifted her head from his chest and saw that they were at the front gates of the castle. He dropped his arm from her shoulders, and she stepped away. "But I didn't feel anything but you!" Minerva exclaimed in wonderment. She had never in her life felt such a smooth movement and Side-Along-Apparition she had read was thought to be pretty unpleasant especially the first time. "I didn't even hear a crack!" Albus chuckled. "Oh, I only make a bit of noise so that people aren't disconcerted by my silent arrival or departure. I must apologize to your uncle and aunt next I see them. I ought to have given them some warning before popping off with their niece." "Oh, I'm sure they won't mind," Minerva said, reaching to take her carpet bag from her professor. Albus took his wand from a pocket and waved it at the gates, which opened to them. He would not relinquish Minerva's bag to her, though, saying, "What sort of gentleman would I be, to make a lady carry her own bags?" Minerva giggled a bit, but then expressed her concern about what other people might think of her if they saw. "Minerva, you would do well not to be overly concerned with the opinions of others. Although if we are considering them, I do believe that if you were to carry your own bag, they would think, 'ah, poor Dumbledore, finally admitting he's old and decrepit and letting that sweet young lady carry her own bags,'" he teased.

Minerva laughed. She didn't think she ever laughed as much as she did when she was with Albus, whatever the seriousness of the subject at hand. She was very glad to be back with him at Hogwarts. "I truly doubt that anyone would think you decrepit, Albus. You have more energy than the entire Gryffindor Quidditch team, and I suppose that's saying something after our performance last year. No, they're probably looking on, thinking, 'ah, there's that snooty McGonagall girl, thinks she's so high-and-mighty she even gets her teacher to carry her bag for her.'" Minerva smiled when she said this, but there was a slight bitter edge to her words. "I don't believe that anyone who knows you could possibly believe that you are snooty or conceited, Minerva. You do not allow many people the privilege of getting to know you, however, and that is to their loss," Albus replied. Minerva said nothing in response, but cast a disbelieving look in her professor's direction. They were nearing the great front entrance to the castle, though, so she said, "Well, Albus, be that as it may, you will need to give me my bags soon since I will need to bring them to my room. Could you unshrink them first, though?"

They walked into the cool Entrance Hall. "Of course I could, my dear, but I was unaware you had left your wand at home. Perhaps we should return and fetch it," he suggested with a twinkle. "Of course I have my wand, Albus! I just wasn't sure I'd be allowed to use it." "Yes, those pesky Restrictions. Do not worry about them while you are here, Minerva. They are not in effect on Hogwarts' grounds. Besides, you are in my care for the next few days; you are my responsibility, and as a teacher at Hogwarts, I am qualified to supervise an underage witch's or wizard's wand use regardless of location or time of year." Minerva grinned. She didn't mind being in his care for a few days. Somehow it didn't seem as demeaning as being in the care of some other person. She pulled her wand from her pocket and, with a quickly restored the trunk and carpet bag that Albus had placed on the floor in front of her. Then she flicked her wand and levitated both carpet bags and the trunk.

Albus walked with her to the first floor, then bade her a good morning, asking that she come find him in his office when she had settled. Minerva was just about to run up the second flight of stairs when she turned to him. "Oh, Albus, the password to the dormitory, what is it?" "Spero et expecto, my dear, just until the first of September." Minerva smiled and fairly sprinted up the next few flights of stairs, which were co-operating with her for a change, and swinging into place before she reached them. By the time she'd reached the fifth floor, however, she was somewhat winded, despite her long, vigorous walks and exercises throughout last year, and she slowed to a more leisurely pace. As she continued her walk up to Gryffindor Tower, she considered her morning thus far, and shook her head in amazement. She would never cease to be in awe of Dumbledore's magical prowess, she thought. While she was aware that, in theory, silent Apparition was possible, she had never heard of anyone who could actually do it. On top of that, he had Apparated her so smoothly that she hadn't even noticed their arrival. It was as though she had been enveloped in a cocoon of warm Dumbledore-ness, was the only way she could think to describe it.

Of course, she wouldn't be describing it for anyone. If her friends asked, she would simply tell them that she hadn't gotten sick or dizzy. She blushed thinking of the way she had laid her head against his chest. Minerva was somewhat reserved with her expressions of physical affection and the action had reminded her of the way she felt about him. She always almost had to force herself to hug her friends' good-bye at the end of the year, knowing it was expected of her and that they would be hurt if she didn't. Yes, overall, Minerva was what she considered "selective" about whom she embraced and under what circumstances. She reached Gryffindor Tower and smiled happily at the Fat Lady, who was fanning herself with a bored expression on her face. "There you are, finally. Professor Dumbledore said to be expecting you. I do hope you won't be expecting my services at all hours. There are only a few days left before the students return, and I do like to get in as much visiting as possible before that." "I shall try not to be a bother, ma'am," replied Minerva politely. She felt it more than slightly ridiculous to have to be polite to a bit of enchanted oil and canvas, but she had seen the consequences suffered by other students who had insulted the Tower portrait.

"Password?" prompted the portrait. "Spero et expecto," Minerva responded. After making the final climb up to the dormitory room she normally shared with four other girls, Minerva began unpacking her bags. She thought again of their brief trip and blushed. She wasn't sure what she was blushing about. It hadn't really been an embrace, after all and even if it had, it was not like she had never embraced him earlier. Albus had put his arm around her and she had leaned against him simply so that he could ease the Apparition for her. She hadn't even hesitated at the time, nor looked at her uncle and aunt. Minerva felt her face grow even warmer at the thought of her uncle and aunt looking on as she had put her head on his chest, closed her eyes, and listened for his heartbeat. Minerva began to shove her clothes into the wardrobe with a little more energy than strictly necessary. She would have to learn some good packing and unpacking Charms, she thought. She moved her trunk to the foot of her bed, shrunk the carpet bags and placed them in the bottom, then, with a quick wave of her wand, levitated her books to the shelves beside her wardrobe. She would worry about putting them in order after her meeting with Albus, she thought. Her stomach growled, and she wondered about meals and whether she would have to eat alone in the Gryffindor common room or something. That thought was unsettling.

Making a quick trip to the bathroom to use the loo and run a brush through her hair before returning it to its ponytail, she considered whether she should wear her school robes. She decided against it and, examining the pale blue robes she had put on that morning, thought that what she was wearing would be fine. She hadn't seen anyone else in the castle yet, and who knew when she would see anyone other than Albus. She did want to appear presentable for him, however. When Minerva entered his room, he was already settled down and waiting for her, quickly she landed herself onto her favorite chair and looked up at Albus expectantly.

Minerva and Albus reviewed her grasp of the reading she had done. She discerned no particular pattern to the questions he asked her, but he seemed pleased with her answers. Unlike other occasions on which they had discussed her reading, Albus did not ask her for her opinions of what she had read, nor did they engage in any speculative discussion. Minerva thought it felt far more like an examination, but she didn't mind. She was glad to be able to please him. After an hour or so, Minerva's stomach rumbled loudly. "Sounds as though someone is hungry," said Albus. "Perhaps this is a good point to stop for lunch." "I'm sorry, Albus. I can go a bit longer, if you like." "No, no need. Wispy!" he called. Wispy popped in immediately. "May Wispy serve Professor Dumbledore and his Miss?" "We are ready for lunch, now, Wispy." "Very good, Professor Dumbledore sir." Wispy popped back out. Albus stood, pushing his chair back and stretching. He motioned for Minerva to follow him, and he led her from the office and the classroom, closing the doors behind. Minerva could feel the wards shiver back into place.

"Albus, where are we going? Do we eat in the Great Hall?" Minerva tried to imagine eating in the cavernous room, alone with Albus, he at the high staff table, she down at Gryffindor table. "No. During the summer, if there is more than a few staff in residence, we do take our meals there, at a single table, but when there are very few, we generally eat lunch and dinner in the staff room. Most of the staff is taking these last few weeks off before term begins and will return by the end of next week. Normally, they are in residence the entire week prior to the start of term; however, Headmaster Dippet decided that a few extra days holiday would be appropriate under the circumstances." "Oh, I'm sorry, Albus! I'm interrupting your holiday!" "No, no, my dear," he said as they began down the stairs to the main floor. "It was my suggestion, in fact." he said enigmatically. As they reached the Entrance Hall, Minerva looked toward the Staff Room. Before she turned towards it, however, Wispy appeared with a small pop, a covered basket almost as large as she hovering above her. "I fix lunch for Professor Dumbledore and his Miss like Professor asks. I hopes lunch is good for the Professor and his Miss." "Thank you, Wispy. I am sure we will enjoy it." Wispy popped away without another word from Albus, leaving the basket hovering in front of them.

"Well, Minerva, my dear, I hope you enjoy picnics!" "A picnic, Albus?" As many meals as she had eaten with Albus over the last few years, somehow she had never envisioned picnicking with him. "Of course. Picnics are fine." With that, the two set off out the doors of the castle and across the grounds. They did not stop by the large oak tree, as she had first anticipated, nor did they head toward the grassy lawn near the lake, where students often brought snacks and tossed bits of sandwich to the Squid. Instead, they turned toward the Forbidden Forest, passed the greenhouses, and then continued on until they were behind the castle, between the lake and the Forest. Minerva could just see a bit of the wall that surrounded the Hogwarts' grounds when they reached their intended picnic ground. "This will do nicely, I believe." Albus turned to the basket, which had floated genially behind them like a well-trained butler and, with a wave of his wand, unpacked it all at once. Everything must have been shrunk quite cleverly, thought Minerva, although she saw no evidence that anything was unshrinking as it popped out of the basket. Seeing Minerva's curious expression, Albus explained, "Spatial Charm, my dear, bigger on the inside than on the outside. Quite handy. I have a carpet bag like this, a gift of an old friend. She would appreciate this picnic basket, I believe."

When Albus was through, Minerva looked about in astonishment. She had grown up with little magic and not seen many things, but she couldn't even imagine that a single wizard could co-ordinate anything like this so quickly and easily. A large blanket was spread out on the ground, and several large pillows rested on two sides. Platters, plates, bowls, and utensils had arrayed themselves neatly upon the blanket, and a large pitcher of cold lemonade had settled down beside two glasses. A bouquet of wild flowers sat in a vase, adorning the very centre of the blanket. But, most astonishing of all, some kind of flowered settee with a canopy over it had appeared a few feet from their picnic spot. Albus smiled amusedly at Minerva's reaction. "I see that I shall have to speak to your uncle and aunt about widening your horizons. You have evidently not been on a picnic before!" "Albus!" Minerva restrained herself from rolling her eyes at her favorite professor. "It's just that it all popped out so fast and arranged itself. It didn't look as though you did anything. And that seat!" Minerva shook her head. "Ah, well, I cannot take all of the credit. The basket, after all, is very large, and Wispy packed it for us." Albus gestured toward the picnic blanket. "Please, Minerva, be my guest. Do not stand on ceremony. Have a seat and help yourself."

Albus sat down on one side of the blanket, settling himself on one of the large pillows, folding his legs in front of him. Minerva joined him, sitting on the edge of the blanket and leaning on a pillow. They spent several minutes selecting their food and eating, interrupted only by occasional exclamations of, "Did you try this? You must! It's delicious." When they finished Albus stood up Minerva smiled and stood, as well. Albus waved his wand, and everything began returning itself to the basket, with the exception of the lemonade, the blanket, and the settee – which Minerva wasn't sure, had come from the basket in the first place. Albus picked up his glass of lemonade and strolled over to the flowered seat. As he settled on it, Minerva noticed that it seemed to rock, or swing, with his movement. "Care to join me?" he asked. "A swing, Albus?" "A glider, my dear." Albus demonstrated the gentle back-and-forth motion of the seat. Minerva sat next to him, somewhat carefully. When she had settled into the seat, Albus waved his wand for several seconds, making a complicated pattern in the air, and leaving trails of red and gold. A rush of magic flowed across her. After it seemed almost moments though, Albus spoke up. "Well, I suppose we should be going back now; as much as I would like to sit here in a swing with a pretty girl, we do need to consult with Wispy about dinner." Minerva laughed, blushing a bit, and watched as Albus returned the remaining picnic items to the basket and vanished the glider seat. Together, they walked back up to the castle, not speaking, just enjoying the cool breeze blowing in off the lake.

"Albus, why do we need to consult Wispy about dinner? Don't the house-elves just serve it like normal?" Minerva asked as they approached the double oak doors leading to the Entrance Hall. "If we wish to eat this evening, we must consult Wispy. All of the other house-elves have been confined to the kitchen and other house-elf-appropriate places for the day; in addition, as we are the only residents of the castle until tomorrow morning when Headmaster Dippet will return and the week after next when the rest of the staff will begin trickling back from holiday, it seemed foolish to have the house-elves serve their normal dinner." "You mean we're the only people at the castle?" Minerva asked incredulously as they entered the cool entry way. "Is that exactly safe?" "Oh, yes, my dear, quite. We renewed the wards just a few weeks ago, and now I can tell Wispy that the other house-elves have the freedom of the castle again." "It's just, just, well, creepy, Albus, this huge empty castle, and just the two of us and the Hogwarts house-elves."

Albus stopped midway up the stairs, and turned to Minerva, who had been walking up beside him. "I am sorry, Minerva. I had not thought. I am so used to so many things that I have forgotten, perhaps, what it might be like for you," he said gently. "If you would like to return to your uncle and aunt for the night, or even for the rest of the weekend, I would be happy to escort you there after dinner – or sooner, if you are bothered." "No, no!" Minerva did not want to have to go home like a little girl who had cried when left with her family friends for a few hours. "I didn't mean it like that. I want to stay. Really, Albus." "Are you sure, my dear?" asked Albus, still not moving from the stair on which he had stopped. "Would you feel more comfortable if Wispy stayed with us during dinner? She could even spend the night in your room, if you like." Minerva suddenly understood Albus' concern. "Oh, no, that would be even weirder. I don't mind it if you're here, Albus, rather your presence only makes it less creepy. What I mean is, it wouldn't matter where we were, I'd feel safe if you were with me. Even if we were in the middle of an army camp," she said. "Hush, now, don't even think such things," responded Albus. "All I'm saying is that it's just the castle that bothers me, not being here with you. In fact, if I had to be alone in the castle with a bunch of house-elves, I'd rather you be with me than anyone else." Minerva felt slightly embarrassed at the sentiment she expressed, but she didn't want him to feel uncomfortable being alone with her, either.

Albus started back up the stairs to the Transfiguration classroom. "Well, that's settled, then. I don't think I had ever been at Hogwarts when it was this empty until after I'd come here to teach. I stayed over Christmas holidays one year, and there were only three students staying in Gryffindor Tower, but that was practically crowded, compared to our current, though highly temporary, situation." "Albus, what about the ghosts? What I mean is, does Headmaster Dippet have everyone leave the castle and grounds in the holidays, and the house-elves were confined – although I don't understand why; I thought they had to be loyal to their House or family – what did you do with the ghosts? And what about the portraits?"

Albus chuckled as he let them into the classroom. "My, I suppose that after hours of listening to me talk, and saying so little, the urge to ask questions has asserted itself again. Well, the ghosts have willingly bound themselves to the wards and its Keeper, with the exception of Peeves – who, it turns out, is one of the unintended by-products of those 17th century wards meant to keep the children in check – and the portrait network is also tied into them. Although you may have noticed a distinct lack of portraits in our picnic area! The elves, although bound to be loyal to Hogwarts, can interpret that loyalty in whatever way they wish. They do have their own internal structure for dealing with miscreants," Minerva thought of Wispy's discipline when he said this, "but I thought it best to take the added security measure of eliminating the possibility of being overheard by them, or the portraits, which, although a part of the ward structure, are not completely controlled by it. Does that answer all your questions?" he asked with a slight smile.

"Yes, but why is Wispy free?" "Do not let her hear you say that she is free, my dear, although she has the freedom of the castle, of course. It is because she is a Dumbledore house-elf; she has a deep-seated loyalty to me personally, not just to the school and its ever-changing population. Besides, she packs a lovely picnic basket!" Minerva smiled broadly at that. "Well, Minerva, why don't you avail yourself of the washroom? I will ask Wispy about dinner. Do you have anything you'd particularly care for? No?" Through the closed door of the loo, Minerva could just hear Dumbledore speaking in low tones to Wispy, presumably releasing the other elves from their confinement – they must have been driven to distraction without being able to "serve" – and ordering dinner. She walked out of the office just as Wispy Apparated away with a gentle crack. "I have ordered a light supper for us. I hope that suits you. If you are hungry later, or anytime this weekend, call Wispy, and she will be at your service." "Thank you, Albus." "I also had an idea that I spoke with Wispy about. If it meets with your approval, she can make the arrangements necessary. As Deputy Headmaster, and, of course, in my other roles here at Hogwarts, I have somewhat grander quarters than most of the other teachers. They include a small guest room with its own loo and a separate entrance to the corridor. If you would feel more comfortable there than in the Gryffindor Tower, you are welcome to make use of it for the nights before the end of the holidays. There is no bath, only a somewhat cramped shower, but it is at your disposal," Albus finished.

"That's very generous of you, Albus, but I don't want to disturb you, or have Wispy go to extra trouble." "You know that Wispy would be glad to serve, as would I. Please stay wherever you feel most comfortable. I would suggest the library, but my recollection is that one's slumber is never particularly restful there." Albus grinned at her. "I really don't know. I am used to my room in Gryffindor Tower, but, well, I hate to admit it, it sounds so childish, but it feels different when there's no one else there. Can we eat supper first, before I decide?" "Of course; and I understand. Why don't we stop by the guest room on the way to Gryffindor Tower, that way you can see it and decide then?" Wispy appeared with their supper at that moment, which consisted of some kind of pickled fish, bread, cheese, tomatoes, a bowl of grapes, and a pitcher of pumpkin juice. Minerva thought she'd avoid the fish, as it looked rather disgusting, but Albus helped himself to it and ate it with such a relish, that she tried a little and decided it wasn't too bad, but she wasn't going to be calling Wispy for more.

After finishing their meal, Albus walked with her along the first floor corridor to one of the narrow flights of stairs she'd always thought led nowhere, which they climbed upward past several landings, until they reached one that opened onto a wide corridor. Finally, they turned into a narrower hallway with large windows along one side and several portraits along the other. Stopping at the third portrait, Albus clearly said, "Chocolate Frog," and the portrait and the door it was guarding swung open. "'Chocolate frog,' Albus?" "Mmm, a lovely sweet wouldn't you agree my dear? I happen to remember for one your tendency to collect the cards." With that explanation, he gestured for her to enter.

The room was almost a precise square, which was quite surprising for any room at Hogwarts. There were two windows along the opposite wall, with a typical Hogwarts four-poster bed between them. There was a small desk along the wall to the right and a wardrobe across from it. Each of the two side walls featured a door. Albus stepped in behind her and opened the door on the left, showing her a small but efficient bathroom, with toilet, shower, and sink. He went to the door opposite the bathroom, and explained to Minerva that it led to his sitting room and that his bedroom was beyond that. He opened that door for her, and she peeked through to see what appeared to be a combination study and sitting room decorated in deep burgundy, moss green, gold, and cream, and furnished with a desk, a few chairs, a couch, a small table, and a fireplace. Along the walls were bookcases; they even stood in front of the windows, blocking out what light was left in the evening sky. There were also stacks of books and parchment everywhere, although they were in neat piles, and it seemed that they had been placed in some kind of order.

"My bedroom is through the door on the other side of that rather crowded room," Albus said. "It would only be for the nights, but if you suddenly needed me, I would be close at hand. Of course, if you stay in Gryffindor Tower, you can always call Wispy, and she will come." Minerva was torn. On the one hand, she didn't want to seem a little girl who couldn't spend the nights alone in the dormitory. On the other, she thought she would feel a little more at home in the small bedroom next door to the comfortable, Dumbledorish mess. On the third hand, if she had a third, she was used to the Tower room, but on the fourth hand, she felt honored that he would allow her to stay in his guest room. "Well, do you mind if I fetch a few things, then if it's really all right for me to stay here?" "Of course, come, we will walk to Gryffindor Tower together; and then you won't have any trouble finding your way back. After you're settled in, we can have some tea, and you can tell me your experience this summer. Shortly thereafter, he managed to convince her to retire for the night, pointing out that yawning three times in as many minutes was probably an indication that she needed her sleep. He reminded her that he was just one room away and that she could call Wispy at any time.

Minerva didn't really remember falling asleep that night, and when she awoke, it was bright morning and Wispy was calling her name. "Miss Minerva, Professor's Miss! Wake up! It is time for Miss to have breakfast." When she saw Minerva stirring, Wispy popped away. Minerva sat up and swung her feet over the edge of the bed, then padded into the little bathroom to wash up and use the toilet. As she dressed, she wondered where she was supposed to go to have breakfast, and was just buckling her shoes when she heard a rap on the door that led to Dumbledore's sitting room. "Yes?" she called. "Albus, is that you? You may come in. Wispy woke me up a while ago." The door opened, revealing Albus Dumbledore, who apparently was not at his best first thing in the morning. He was wearing long brocade and satin dressing gown over what appeared to be a long night shirt, and his feet were clad in peculiar fuzzy slippers with wiggling ears.

"Good morning, Minerva. I haven't dressed yet, as you can plainly see, but I wanted to let you know that when you are ready for breakfast, you can just come into the study and call for Wispy. I will join you when I am more properly attired." "Thank you, Albus." After they had eaten breakfast, Minerva packed up the few things she'd brought from her dormitory the night before into a small bag, tidying the room. When she stepped into the study to tell Albus that she was returning to the tower for the day, and to ask if he wanted to meet with her later that day, he was engrossed in what looked like Arithmantic calculations, but with symbols she had never seen used before. On her way back up her dormitory, which was surprisingly close to Professor Dumbledore's rooms, she did not encounter anyone; she gave the password to the Fat Lady's portrait and entered the common room. In the middle of the day, having just run into the medi witch who seemed the only other person back apart from themselves, Minerva had a nice breakfast with Albus. She did not find the empty Gryffindor Tower at all creepy or weird in the morning though and settled down with a book, luxuriating in the peace and quiet.

Thus, Minerva spent the three weeks before the rest of the students arrived back at the castle Monday evening, reading, thinking, and having tutorials with Albus. Taking lunch and dinner at the round table in the Great Hall wasn't nearly as strange as she'd thought it would be, and she enjoyed talking with the different teachers who arrived a week and a half later, although she always preferred to sit by her Head of House. At the Welcoming Feast, when other students, asked her why she hadn't been on the train, she explained, "Family business," in such a tone as to forestall any questions, even from her friends. The new school year started, but to Minerva, it felt anticlimactic after her long conversation with Dumbledore about her animagus training. And so the weeks went by, and late summer faded as cold autumn winds blew in off the lake, and the days grew shorter. When Minerva's birthday came, Albus gave her a book, a very old copy of The Book of Taliesin, saying "Felicitations, Miss McGonagall!"

It was clear that the volume he gave her had at one point been comprised of separate parchments that had later been cut apart and sewn together into its current form. Looking through it, Minerva recognized that there were poems there that she had never seen before, and others that she did expect to see were not there. Her Welsh was very rusty, Minerva having studied it before she came to Hogwarts, but not having used it much since. She got the feeling, holding and examining the book, that this was not something one could pick up in Flourish & Botts for any price. "Albus," Minerva said slowly, "where did you get this? It's very old. . . ." "It was in my grandfather's library, and in his grandfather's library, and as far as I remember being told, in his grandfather's grandfather's library, as well. You needn't worry its not stolen," he teased. "It's not that," Minerva said, gently closing the book, "it's that I don't think I can accept it." "Minerva, I will be very disappointed if you don't. I wanted to give you something special; you have been working so hard to achieve such fleets at your age, and you have also been working very hard to achieve a part of the Art that Taliesin is said to have attained with no effort. You deserve to receive something special to acknowledge that hard work. It seemed that this book would find a good and worthy home with you."After that speech, Minerva could not refuse the gift, but she did keep it wrapped and in a locked, warded drawer in her wardrobe, only taking it out to look at when no one else was present.

"Oh come on, Minerva. I know you're dying to get this year going. I can't believe we're going to give our OWLS the next year. School is going by so quickly." Sally looked at Minerva smiling. Ro and Poppy were staring at her curiously "How's your brother?" Minerva asked after a pause knowing she was trying to cover up her worry. Sally had been thinking about her brother a lot lately. Because she was muggle-born her brother was not a wizard. He just had his nineteenth birthday making his age seem five years older than hers, however she would be fifteen just after Minerva, on the ninth of October, making him only just over four years older really. He was a soldier in the British army and had recently been stationed in Dover, not allowing for much time to see his family who lived in Dublin. She pitied him, envied him and was scared for him, as well as being unimaginably proud of him. It was an unusual mixture of emotions and one that Sally was not entirely comfortable with.

"He's doing fine, I think," Sally told her friend, brushing a strand of her wispy, short, blonde hair out of her eyes. "Da got a letter from him the other day and he seems well enough but tired." "I can't even begin to imagine," responded Minerva sympathetically. The rest of the dinner passed by pleasantly enough, with little talking and much more thoughtfulness than usual. Jeff Connors and Terry Boots from Ravenclaw had joined Sally, Ro, Poppy and Minerva in their table. Jeff and Terry had only recently become good friends with Minerva and the other girls. Minerva had introduced Jeff and Terry after the budger incident to Sally, Ro and Poppy. Of course they already knew each other, but they did not become firm friends until the end of the third year. It was common knowledge that Sally thought Jeff was very good-looking. They all, including Sally, made a joke of it; she often called him 'Gorgeous Connors'. He had light brown hair that neatly swept from left to right across his forehead, large brown eyes that gleamed brilliantly when he smiled, and his skin was smooth as glass as well as being a wonderful creamy color. He was tall with a build that was not too muscular, and a huge attraction to many a Hogwarts student. Terry was quite different; his figure was lanky; he had dozens of freckles on his skinny face, a petite nose and small, bright blue eyes. Their height and their hair was the only similarity between them, only Terry's hair was jet black.

"So Connors, how's Dave?" Dave was the Connors family's winged-horse. It was an Aethonan – chestnut, and a creature that Sally was particularly fond of. She had seen Dave three times when she had visited Jeff over the years and adored him instantly. "He's fine," Jeff told her. "The Ministry sent us a letter telling is that we had to renew the Disillusionment Charm this summer. Dave got a bit annoyed at that but he's alright now; I think he's forgotten already." "I wish I saw him this summer," Sally said longingly. "Sorry I couldn't make it, but I don't get to see my brother very often and that was the week he was on leave." "Don't worry about it, Sally," Jeff said with a chuckle. "I told Dave you sent your love and gave him a piece of the carrot cake you made for us; he definitely appreciated it."

Ro turned to her left to Minerva, a question about Quidditch burning on her lips, but found a face that did not look as though it wanted to concentrate on anything but the words on the page before her in what, according to Sally, was a terrifyingly sizeable book. "Where in the world did that come from, Min?" Minerva glared at Ro. "Shut up, Ro. Don't call me Min." Minerva retorted. "Have you seen Dumbledore this evening?" Ro asked Minerva. "He seems a bit – I don't know – drained." "I know what you mean," Terry agreed, slipping into a seat opposite Poppy. "Last night at dinner he was definitely a notch down from his usual exuberance." Dumbledore sat on Professor Dippet's right side, quietly musing over what to have for his dinner. He seemed thinner that the last time she saw him and he lacked the energy he usually emanated. "Clearly nowhere relaxing," responded Minerva, now joining Ro in her perusal of their professor at the top table.

At that moment Dumbledore looked up and scanned the crowd of students, suddenly catching the four Gryffindor fourth years and two Ravenclaws watching him. He smiled towards them and touched his hand to the rim of his hat in polite greeting. Sally, Jeff, Terry and Poppy all looked back to their dinner, rather discomfited at being caught studying him, Ro lingered her look a little before dropping her gaze as well. However, Minerva's glance, Sally noticed, lingered a while longer, openly displaying her curiosity of the new appearance that had altered the impression of their transfiguration professor. He had been looking pretty haggard of late. He even missed classes and her training. She had been given much more freedom now in her training and it was almost drawing to a close, but his repeated absence from the classes did not make sense. Minerva was just a little worried for him.

Some weeks later, Minerva was sitting in the Transfiguration classroom late one evening. She had advanced in the exercises that she was able to practice without supervision, and was in the midst of one that required particularly intense concentration, when she was startled by the opening classroom door. She had the impression that she was trying to stand, when, suddenly, everything went black and cold. "Minerva, Minerva! Here, now, can you open your eyes, my dear?" Minerva slowly became aware that, although she had apparently fallen to the floor, she was being held in someone's warm, strong arms. She knew it was Albus calling to her, and she could tell by the feel of the arm around her shoulder, and from the slight aroma of lemon and chocolate wafting down, that it was he who held her. She knew she should open her eyes for him, but she was comfortable, and just wanted to stay there. Just stay there forever . . .

But he called again, "Minerva, Minerva, please, my dear, open your eyes. Now is not the time for sleep." Her eyes fluttered, and then she closed them again, relaxing even more deeply into his arms. "Don't want you to let go . . . ," she mumbled. "I won't let go, my dear, but you need to open your eyes for me. Open your eyes!" The last sounded like an irresistible command, and so Minerva obeyed. "Albus?" she whispered. "Yes, my dear. I am so sorry to have caused your accident. It seems that my entrance caused you to switch your magical focus from internal to external too quickly. It's not a common occurrence, but not unexpected, either. Rather like the magical equivalent of fainting when standing up too quickly if you haven't been eating right." "I don't faint," murmured Minerva blearily. "Now, don't close your eyes again just yet. That's right, just look up at me. That's good, Minerva, my dear . . . ."

Minerva scarcely heard any more of the reassuring words he said: she was aware only that she was resting across his lap, cradled in his left arm, head resting against his chest. She could feel his right hand gently stroking her forehead, long fingers softly stroking her temple then caressing her cheek, and, in the flickering candlelight, she saw his blue eyes, filled with concern, focused on her face, focused on her alone. But what she was most aware of was the beating of his heart, the thrumming of his magic, and the answering throb of her own pulsing life. Minerva wanted to stay in his arms forever, to have him hold her; to kiss him, to have him return her kiss. She felt the steady beat of her own heart increase, and the heat of her blood spread upward to fill her chest with an almost painful new passion. And then the heat spread throughout her body, heavy, flowing, swelling, throbbing, inexorable, filling her with a desire she'd never known before, but which, even in the haze of her acute awareness of him, she recognized.

Some part of Minerva was appalled at the unexpected arrival of these intense feelings for the wizard holding her, some part was ashamed, but the part of her that was melting into her professor's arms – that part of her never wanted to let him go, and never wanted to let go of the feelings being held engendered in her. Need, want, and desire bubbled through her. A giving, grasping, needing, embracing passion leapt in her chest. The passion rising up in her body and soul merged gladly with the love for him already in her heart. Unable to help herself, Minerva turned her face further towards him, not wanting to lose sight of his brilliant eyes, nor of his sensitive lips, but nonetheless wanting to bury her face in his warm beard and burrow closer to the beating heart that throbbed an echoing call to her own pulse.

Albus, unaware of the emotional turmoil his young Gryffindor was experiencing, continued stroking her forehead and caressing her cheek. "There, there, Minerva, you'll be all right soon. All will be well. There, there, stay awake for me, Minerva, my dear." She was his dear, his Minerva, some part of her thought mushily. And she would be his forever. Then, abruptly, awareness broke through her sweet content and assaulted the warmth that had settled in her soul. A cold, clenching, acute pain encircled her heart with a cruel realization. She was a student. She was his student. That was all she was, and all she could ever be, whispered a voice within her. He was Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore: hero, renowned Alchemist, Deputy Headmaster, Head of Gryffindor House, and Transfiguration Master. She was Minerva McGonagall, fourth-year Gryffindor Transfiguration student. Perhaps he valued her for herself; but there was no denying that what she was . . . well, that wasn't much at all.

She began to weep, almost silently, against him, tasting the salt of her tears on his beard as she opened her mouth to draw a gasping, choking breath. It would never go away. It would never go away. She knew that, as surely she knew that the sun rises in morning. It was lodged in her, bound to her soul. As her tears continued to flow, hot and silent, Minerva knew that hers was not even to dream, never even to dream. Never even to dream . . . . It had consumed her rapidly, completely, and left her with only a taunting glimpse of what she could never have. She would die of it, she was sure. Yes, she would die of it. Albus became alarmed when, instead of recovering within a few minutes of regaining consciousness after her magical accident, Minerva had begun weeping desperately into his chest. He called Wispy, whom he sent to the infirmary to inform the matron that he was bringing a student to see her. Minerva had been barely aware of the house-elf's arrival and her professor's instructions to her. After Wispy left, Minerva felt Albus lift her into his arms and stand.

"There, there, now, Minerva. I am going to take you to the infirmary. Don't worry, my dear, I shan't let go of you until we are there. And a little Disillusionment Charm and taking the backstairs will get us there a little more easily." Minerva felt the cold Disillusionment Charm run over her and then heard him utter a Notice-Me-Not Charm. "Now, you may know that the fire in my office is not on the internal Floo-Network – a deficiency that I will correct – so I will have to carry you all the way. Professor Gamp's office is closer than the infirmary, and she is on the Floo-Network, so we are going there first, all right, my dear?" Minerva could not nod or shake her head, nor agree or disagree with his proposal. She continued to weep against him as he carried her down the corridor, up a set of stairs, and then to Professor Gamp's office. Professor Gamp was not there, but Dumbledore let himself in.

"Now, my dear, I need to make a little fire and get some Floo-Powder. May I put you down in this chair then?" Minerva made no response and did not loosen her grip on his robes, nor turn her face from where it was nestled in his beard. "No? Well then, we shall both sit, since otherwise I might drop you! No need for a concussion, as well . . . ." Albus lowered himself into a little chair beside Gamp's fireplace, holding Minerva on his lap, and found his wand. "There we are. Now a little fire. I'm going to stand up again, Minerva, and we'll be going through the Floo to the infirmary. Madam Bell will have a look at you. You will feel much better soon, I'm sure." He summoned the little crock of Floo-Powder from the mantel and took a pinch of it before sending it back to its place. Lifting Minerva carefully, Albus stood, tossed the Floo-Powder into the fire, and stepped into it, saying, "Hospital wing!"

By the time Albus had carried her the length of the infirmary to one of the smaller private rooms, Minerva had stopped crying. She would not release her hold on him, however. She could hear the matron come huffing into the room as her professor was trying to lay her down on the bed. Minerva did not know why she wouldn't let go, really. It was partly shame. If she were to let go, she would have to look at him. She would have to meet his eyes. Even if he had no clue what she had been thinking, she was utterly embarrassed. Letting him go would also mean a complete return to the reality in which she was just Minerva McGonagall, fourth-year Gryffindor, and he was Albus Dumbledore, esteemed Deputy Headmaster of Hogwarts. "Professor Dumbledore! Your house-elf told me you were bringing in a student. I had to run up from the greenhouses, or I would have met you," the stout matron panted. "Now who have you got there? Just put her down on the bed."

"It seems that she does not understand what's going on, Madam Bell. I cannot get her to let go of my robes so that I can put her down. I have tried," Albus spoke softly. "It's Minerva McGonagall. She's had an accident. I think it was just magical syncope, but after she regained consciousness, she began to cry and wouldn't let me go. She only just stopped crying a few minutes ago. I have been worried." "Well, if you've been holding her like that the whole time, you must be getting tired! Here, Miss McGonagall, let go of Professor Dumbledore," she said loudly. "You are in the infirmary now. No need for concern. I need to check you over, Miss McGonagall." When Minerva made no movement to show that she heard and understood the matron's directions, Madam Bell decided on a different course. "You'll just have to hold on to her while I do the initial examination, Professor. Just have a seat on the bed. No not on the edge, man! Lean back against the pillows with her. We need to get her to relax. Hopefully once I've performed the initial examination, she'll return to her senses and lie back on her own. If she still clings to you like that after I'm done, we can give her a Calming Potion. Magical syncope can have some very odd effects, I remember from my studies, although I haven't run across them, myself. Were you there at the time?"

Dumbledore, reclining in the narrow hospital bed, one arm still around Minerva, replied, "Yes, I had just arrived. I think it was that which triggered the episode. She was doing an internal magical exercise, although I haven't been able to ask her which one it was. As I came through the door, she moved as if she were about to stand, but I don't think that she had ended her meditation yet and instead of standing, she fell to the floor. I was not fast enough to arrest her fall nor close enough to catch her." The mediwitch had her wand out and had begun passing it over Minerva's head. "Did you notice if she hit her head when she fell?" "No, although she must have. She seemed fine at first, a little groggy, perhaps, but she followed my directions when I told her to look at me and not fall asleep. But then, well, you can see . . . ." "You'll have to let her go now, Professor." "Hmm? Oh, right." Albus let his arm drop to his side.

Minerva was still leaning against him, fists holding onto his robes, face buried in his beard. She was thinking more clearly now, but that was worse than her previous muddled state-of-mind. She could feel the diagnostic spells tingle against her. Minerva sighed heavily. "Miss McGonagall, you will be fine," she heard the matron saying to her, "but I am going to give you a Calming Draught to help you along. Although I'm sure that Professor Dumbledore is a man of great patience and understanding, in order to do a thorough exam, I'll need you to feel comfortable enough to let go of him; I'd prefer to do the examination sooner rather than later. The potion will help you feel more comfortable. I'm going to fetch it now; I'll be back in two shakes." Turning to Dumbledore, she said, "It might help if you talk to her. I think she just had something of a shock and will be fine. She needs to feel secure, I think, which is why she won't let you go." Minerva heard the matron leave the room and close the door behind her. She was suddenly very aware that she was lying on a bed with Albus. Not only with him, but practically on top of him. Her legs were stretched out beside his, but she hadn't moved her head since he had picked her up in the classroom. She could still hear his heartbeat and feel his magic flowing through him, pulsing in time with his heart. Although this awareness sparked a slight physical thrill, it also made her even more embarrassed. She turned her face slightly and blinked against the sudden lamplight. "I'm sorry, Professor," she whispered.

"Ah, Minerva! There you are! No need to be sorry and what is this Professor business again my dear? Albus will do, we are still friends. You had an accident, a shock, Madam Bell says. Are you feeling a bit better, my dear?" Minerva nodded and loosened her grip on his robes. "I have a terrible headache, and if anyone ever died of embarrassment, I'd have a fatal case right now," she said. Albus smoothed her hair away from her face. "Everyone has accidents, Minerva, and everyone sheds a tear or two occasionally. You needn't be embarrassed." Minerva finally let go and pushed away from him. New tears sprang to her eyes as she left his warmth. Albus stood and helped Minerva lie back against the pillows. "Thank you," she whispered as he sat back down on the edge of the bed. "Do you want to talk about what happened? I am very sorry that I entered when I did, Minerva, and caused your accident." "It wasn't your fault, Albus. It just happened. You couldn't have prevented it." Minerva eyes were closed. She did have a terrible headache, and the lights did seem bright, but she also couldn't bear to look at him yet. "I'm sorry I cried all over you. I probably made a mess of your beard and your robes." "A little salt water won't hurt; I'm sure, my dear. Do not concern yourself."

Madam Bell returned with the Calming Potion. "So our patient is feeling more like herself? You may still want the Calming Draught, though." At Minerva's nod, the matron helped her swallow the contents of a small vial. Albus had stood and moved away from the bed when the matron returned. "She said she has a bad headache, Madam Bell." "I shouldn't wonder. I have a headache potion, as well, but I want to wait to give her that one. If you would like, Professor Dumbledore, you may wait in the infirmary whilst I perform the examination. If not, I can let you know later how she is." "I'll wait." Minerva heard the door close behind her professor, and she cautiously opened her eyes.

"Lights a bit bright? I'll dim them a little for you, then. I took a quick look at your records, Miss McGonagall. You seem to be quite healthy, from what they say. You should recover quite well, so not to worry." The matron proceeded with various tests, at one point taking up her wrist and holding it, fingers at Minerva's pulse point. "There's still nothing like actually feeling a patient's pulse and magical flow, that's what I say," she declared as she let go of Minerva's wrist. "I'd like you to stay overnight. There is a gown in the drawer of the bedside stand that you may wear. Do you feel up to standing and putting it on yourself, or would you like my help?" At Minerva's assurance that she could get herself ready for bed, the matron continued, "I think that Professor Dumbledore was correct. You had a case of magical syncope, but it was complicated by whatever exercise you were doing. From the tests that I ran, it appears that you were magically and emotionally open, and the syncope created a sudden fluctuation of both. There must have been an environmental trigger, as well, that determined the particular manifestation of these emotions."

"So the feelings came from somewhere outside of me?" asked Minerva. "Oh, no, that's not what I meant. There was a void, a vacuum, created by your exercise, and the feelings that rushed in to fill it were likely triggered by something environmental, something external, but the feelings were not foreign; they came from within you, Miss McGonagall." "And you said something about being magically open, too?" "Yes; that is one reason you were unable to return to your senses as quickly as you might otherwise have. You were open to magical exhaustion because of the severity of the syncope; however, because of the protective wards that Hogwarts has, the magical drain was . . . how to put this . . . the magical drain was staunched. Hogwarts could not prevent your syncope, obviously, but, from what I understand, the wards use the intense magical field of the castle to ensure that students do not suffer the effects of a magical drain as much as they would if they were elsewhere. Of course, I'm new here, and I'm not particularly familiar with this kind of thing, but I understand that your Professor Dumbledore is an expert on it. He could probably explain the wards better than I. It is curious, however . . ." Madam Bell hesitated. "I thought the protection of those wards extended to underage students, and I saw from your records that you are not of age."

After Minerva had asked a few more questions and been reassured that she could join her House for breakfast in the morning if she felt up to it, the matron left. Minerva lay back, somewhat drowsy from the headache potion and the Calming Draught. She could hear Albus' voice rumble as he spoke with Madam Bell. He had been so understanding. How could she ever look at him again? She wasn't sure she could continue her training. How could she? The thought of abandoning her Animagus training pained her. She wouldn't worry about that until tomorrow. Maybe It would go away on Its own, if It were just an after effect of her accident. Of course, there was still her sense of shame, but since Albus was unaware of everything that embarrassed her, she might be able to overcome that.

Just as she was coming to those conclusions, Minerva heard a light knock and the door opened a crack. It was Albus. "Minerva?" he called quietly. "Yes, Albus, I'm awake." "May I come in?" "Of course." "Madam Bell said that you will be fine and we will probably be seeing you at breakfast in the morning." "I hope so." "I will stop by the Tower and let your roommates know that you are spending the night here so that they do not worry about you." Dumbledore stepped closer to the bed. "The matron told me what she believes happened. I am more sorry than ever, Minerva. If I have ever done anything that could have caused you such grief – " "It wasn't you, Albus. Believe me. It wasn't you. I really don't want to talk about it now, but I will tell you truthfully, Albus, that you have never done anything to cause me any grief." Minerva felt a lump in her throat. Only his very being. Only knowing him. He himself did nothing, nothing except be himself. He could not be faulted for that.

"I was glad to hear from her that you were protected from a magical drain. Not that you couldn't have recovered from it, of course, particularly as your magic has been matured for a year or two now, but it is very uncomfortable – I speak from experience." "She thought it was the Hogwarts wards that protected me, but said she might be wrong about that, Professor. She said you would know better than she." Minerva really didn't want to discuss anything related to her accident, so she did not ask him about it. "Yes, she told me that, as well," replied Dumbledore. "Well, it has been a long evening for us both. Madam Bell said she would have a snack sent to you and you should eat it before you go to sleep. I am feeling rather peckish, myself, so I think I will have a bite to eat and retire early – unless you need something, my dear?" "No, nothing. Thank you, Albus. Good night." Minerva thought he was looking tired, but carrying a full-grown witch all over the castle was bound to be tiring. "Albus?" Minerva said, and Albus turned in the doorway. "Thank you for bringing me to the hospital wing . . . and everything else." She blushed. "Of course, Minerva. Good night, my dear. Sleep well – and be sure to eat your snack!"

The following morning, Minerva had felt physically recovered, but over the next days and weeks, she was emotionally labile. The intervening holidays gave her an excuse to take a break in her Animagus training. That excuse could not last. After the new term began in January, Professor Dumbledore had her stay after class one day. "Minerva tomorrow is Friday. Should I expect you for your tutorial? I understand that you had a very traumatic experience with the accident. But the Muggles have a saying that if you fall off your horse, you have to get right back in the saddle again. I thought that by giving you time last month to recover and not asking that you continue lessons before Christmas, I was doing you a favor. I now believe that may have been the wrong thing to do. "Although Minerva had no longer felt the acute anguish that had initially assaulted her as she lay weeping in Albus' arms, she had not been shake her embarrassment and shame until the last week. Worse yet, her intense desire and longing for him had refused to die. Sitting in his class, listening to his voice, feeling his magic brush past her if he walked by, all of those things brought a rush of blood which it shouldn't be. Minerva had been glad that she had already mastered the topics being covered in class; it was very difficult to pay proper attention under those conditions. Even seeing him up at the staff table during meals had brought a warm tingle rushing over her. How could she possibly have concentrated on her Animagus training when it was so hard even to be in the same room with him?

Now however she felt much more at ease. Minerva had been doing extra long walks and occlumency sessions the times when she had found it hard to control her emotions for him. It was during one of these sessions that reality had come down to her at last. She had been wrong when she had thought that she had a crush on Albus a few years back. It had not been a crush; she loved him with every fiber of her being. Though it had alarmed her at first when she had realized the truth, after another few exercises, she felt good as new, well almost. She had accepted the fact that her feelings for Albus could not be done away with as it had become an integrate part of her throughout her years in Hogwarts and they would have manifested themselves sometime or the other even without the accident. Then she had gone about organizing her thoughts. She had accepted that loving him had come naturally to her. How could she not feel admiration for him, knowing what he did for the good of the wizarding and Muggle worlds, and for Hogwarts? And how could she not see him as a human being, and a man, when she knew what he went through for the sake of others, for the way it affected him, and then admire him for it all the more now that he was a human being, rather than a seemingly-omnipotent adult. He was human, touched by the evil of the world, and yet still he continued to spend himself for others. Minerva's care, concern, and admiration for her professor had entwined with her childish love of him, creating a steady, trusting, generous, mature love long before that evening in the Transfiguration classroom.

Minerva flounced out of the portrait-hole with her book-bag and headed off to the Transfiguration classroom. Albus was there when she arrived, which pleased her greatly, although she was a little worried that he'd be too busy to have her use the classroom that morning. Instead, he suggested that they work on some of her Animagus exercises. In addition to the type that she had worked on over the summer, which were essentially a series of progressive exercises that helped focus the mind, the magic, or the physical energies of the practitioner – sometimes all three at once, although she hadn't advanced to those yet – there were other exercises in which the practitioner focused her mind on a particular quality of a particular animal and then used her wand to cast a transformative spell on one of her body parts, usually a hand or foot. It was a difficult spell since it was completely nonverbal, with no incantation even possible, and it required the caster to concentrate fully on both the essence of the particular animal and on the sensation of the body part in question.

Minerva had tried this twice before, in Albus' presence, and had rather lackluster results, she thought. The first time, she had focused on her left hand and on the quality of a squirrel's fur since that seemed simple to her and had managed only a smattering of silvery-grey hairs on the back of her hand. The second time, on the same occasion, she had removed her left shoe and sock, crossed her ankle somewhat indelicately over her right knee, and concentrated on a raven's claw. Those results, although Dumbledore had said they were positive, were more disastrous, to Minerva's mind. Instead of either turning into a raven's claw, which would have been a perfect result, or at least changing her foot black, or something normal like that, three of her toes sprouted extremely long, sharp toenails, which she was unable to get rid of, even after concentrating on what her foot should feel like. Professor Dumbledore had had to cast a spell to force her toenails to resume their normal shape and size.

So this Saturday morning, she sat in a chair in Professor Dumbledore's office, cleared her mind, and focused on her hand, then added to that the essence of a dog's paw, imagining vividly the forepaw of a border collie. She opened her eyes, raised her wand, and cast. To her immense disappointment, only a patch of dark, black fur had appeared on the back of her hand and down the length of her fingers. Impatiently, she waited for Professor Dumbledore to examine her hand, turning it this way and that, stroking the fur the wrong way, then peering at its roots, before she could wave her wand and reverse the spell. "Well, at least this time, I could reverse it," she said ruefully. He looked at her thoughtfully. "Explain to me exactly what you were concentrating on before you cast."

Minerva told him, in as much detail as she could manage her entire thought process prior to casting. She watched him as he walked in a slow circle, looking at apparently nothing. Suddenly, he turned and said, "Cast it on my hand, instead." "But how?" she protested. "The spell requires me to focus not just on the dog's paw, but on my hand, the way it feels, its bone, muscle, skin, blood, and so on. How am I supposed to cast it on you?" "It will require a variation on your focus, of course, but that should be a relatively simple matter. Your ability to focus your magic in empathy with other living creatures is excellent, Minerva. The exercises you have been practicing since the beginning of the summer have made that part easy for you, wouldn't you say?" "I suppose. I guess that's why this is so frustrating. Using an ordinary Trans-figurative spell, I can change my hand into a dog's paw and back again with no problem. And I did that last week, repeatedly, as you know. But I can't force my hand to transform itself into a dog's paw. I don't know why." Minerva sighed.

"That's why I would like you to perform the spell on my hand, first. We know it is not that you don't know what your hand feels like when it is a dog's paw since, as you pointed out, you've performed an ordinary Transfiguration on it. Clearly, you are also achieving some kind of internal magical effect that drew forth the fur just now, and which we could no doubt diagnose in detail, if we were so inclined, but I don't believe that such a diagnosis would aid you at this point." "But, Albus, your hand isn't my hand. I can't use an Animagus spell to transfigure it!" Minerva, in all her reading, had never heard of anything like that being done. "Ah, Minerva, but you can! I would perform it on you – and will, later, if you wish – but since you are trying to learn to cast, I would prefer you give it a try first." "I have no idea how," Minerva said, feeling slightly stubborn about it, mainly because she still didn't know what her Albus was getting at.

"As I said, your strength at the moment is your magical empathy. Although it may complicate things a bit to focus both on the dog's paw and on my hand, I believe that you will be able to. Once you have my hand fixed clearly, cast the dog's paw. Do not hesitate; the essence of the dog's paw is at your ready disposal, Minerva. Have faith that you do not need to linger over it. Simply cast." He held out his right hand to her. "Um, Albus, I'm not sure this is a good idea." Albus raised an eyebrow at her, but she continued. "I don't mean the idea as such; I meant casting it on your wand hand. I know you can use your wand with your left, but I would really prefer not . . . messing with your wand hand, if you know what I mean." Albus smiled and dutifully stretched out his left hand to her. She looked at it and hesitated. "Go ahead, Minerva, feel free! My hand is yours, at the moment," he said, grinning.

She smiled back, and took his hand in her own two smaller ones. She pushed the cuff of his robe back so that she could see the fine, well-proportioned wrist bones. She rested the palm of his hand in her left one while examining it with her right, running the tips of her fingers from his wrist across the back of his hand and down his long fingers. She held his hand closer to her face, seeing all the small, dry lines that mapped the back of his hand, and the short, fine hairs; then Minerva examined his clean, neatly trimmed fingernails, running a finger along those, as well. She could feel a warm, deep vibration coming from him that was clearly not physical, and she felt wonderment that his magic expressed itself so strongly when he was simply at rest in a chair. His hand still cradled in her left one, she moved her examination to his thumb, taking it in her right hand, scrutinizing it, pressing it in toward his hand, then extending it, then letting it lay at rest. She was just about to turn his hand over to examine the palm when, without thinking, she lightly stroked her index finger down the length of his thumb. Shaking herself mentally, she forced herself to return to her focus as she turned his hand over and explored his palm minutely. A strange, unbidden thought passed through her mind, of how pleasant it would be to sit and hold his hand, stroke his palm, and caress the sensitive tips of his fingers, not because of a Transfiguration exercise, but just because it was his hand and it felt nice. At that distracting thought, Minerva closed her eyes and forced her mind and her magic back to their proper focus.

Eyes shut; she held his left hand between her two palms for what seemed an eternity as she tried to absorb its nature. When she opened her eyes, she said, "Ready?" He simply smiled slightly and nodded, so she released his hand, picked up her wand, and with the knowledge of his hand fixed firmly in her mind, she quickly called up the collie's paw and cast.

Albus' hand shivered a moment, like a mirage in the desert, and then it slowly seemed to darken and melt. For a brief second, Minerva was alarmed, but before she could even register her own sense of panic, before her lay a perfect example of a border collie's paw. True, it was larger than usual since it seemed that it had taken on the size of Albus's hand, but it was perfect. Almost tossing her wand down on the desk, she reached over and grabbed Albus's hand, or paw. Feeling that suddenly snatching up her professor's hand was rude, she apologized. "Oh, I'm sorry, Albus! I wasn't thinking – may I? Does it hurt? What does it feel like? Did it hurt when it changed?"

"Of course you may, and no, it doesn't hurt. It feels much as I remember a dog's paw feeling the last time I did such an exercise. No, the Transfiguration didn't hurt, precisely, although it was more uncomfortable than when one casts the spell on oneself. And may I take this opportunity to say, 'Well done, Minerva'?" Minerva was thrilled. It was a long way from her Animagus transformation, and she had yet to be able to perform the spell on herself, but it was a major success. Dumbledore called Wispy and had her bring a pitcher of pumpkin juice and a plate of shortbread to celebrate. As she munched on her biscuit, Minerva thought of something. "Albus, I was wondering a few things." "That comes as such a surprise, Minerva! I didn't think you had a curious bone in your body!" he teased. Minerva just smiled, shook her head at him indulgently, and continued with her questions. "Well, first, why don't they mention this technique in any of the books I've read – even in yours? Second, if I can change your hand into a paw, and I can, eventually, turn my hand into a paw, why can't I change my hand into your hand, and then just, well, turn myself into you? No Polyjuice needed!"

"Ah, Minerva, I believe that you will find part of the answer to your first question there in your final statement. I do believe that attempting to transfigure oneself into the likeness of another human being might be possible – it would certainly be possible to transfigure certain aspects, such as the hand – but such a Transfiguration might have unwanted side effects, upon which one may only speculate. But even were there no side effects, the practical consequences of being able to transfigure oneself into the likeness of another human being without the use of Polyjuice could be quite negative. Also, remember that whomever you wished to transfigure yourself into would have to be someone whom you knew intimately. It is one thing to Transfigure a hand, or even a face, but to Transfigure an entire body – well, it seems unlikely that anyone would wish to Transfigure themselves into someone they know that well by happenstance, and more unlikely still that someone they didn't know well would allow them to gain familiarity sufficient to enable such a Transfiguration. Not to mention that most practitioners . . . ."

Dumbledore went on, discussing the practical, ethical, and magical implications of human-to-human internal Transfiguration, and the differences between an Animagus and a Metamorphmagus, and how both were different still from the kind of Transfiguration they were discussing, but Minerva's mind had already stopped at his words, "whomever you wished to Transfigure yourself into would have to be someone whom you knew intimately. It is one thing to Transfigure a hand, or even a face, but to Transfigure an entire body . . . ." She thought of her minute exploration of her professor's hand – a hand that she already knew well after two years studying with him. Minerva halted herself from pursuing that thought any further and turned her attention back to what Albus was saying just in time to hear the words, "Dark Magic."

"I'm sorry, Albus, I don't think I caught what you just said, what was that about Dark Magic?" "Just that some people would classify what you just did as Dark, although it is not officially labeled so." "I'm afraid my mind wandered a bit, why do people think its Dark? I mean, anyone from about the third year up can cast a spell that will transfigure someone's hand into a paw of some kind." "I see that the excitement of success has distracted you, my dear. As I said a moment ago, it is not the effect of the Transfiguration," Albus scratched the fur on the back of his paw, "it is the manner in which it is achieved. You forced an internal or essential Transfiguration upon another person – in a sense; you made my hand your own first, and then forced it to transfigure itself from the inside out." "What? I didn't feel as though I was forcing anything –" Minerva stammered.

"'Force' only in the sense of having my hand, the cells of my body, do something that is against their nature – rather like forcing crocus bulbs indoors. And as for the other sense of the word, you might be able to force such a Transfiguration on a Muggle against his will, but to do it on a conscious, aware wizard would require a great deal more power than you expended in your effort here – although I do notice you ate the last of the shortbread without any trouble!" "So someone could force such a Transfiguration on someone else against their will only if they used much more magical energy than I did with your hand just now?" "Yes; so you see that using an ordinary Transfiguration spell is a far easier way to turn your friend's hand into a paw! Of course, doing that requires an incantation, and to perform it nonverbally would take practice. Speaking of turning a friend's hand into a paw, do you suppose you could," Albus said, gesturing at his paw with his right hand.

"Of course, Albus!" Embarrassed that she hadn't thought of it earlier, especially when he kept scratching his fur, Minerva picked up her wand, concentrated on his hand as a hand, prepared to cast, and then hesitated. "Minerva?" "I'm sorry, Albus, it's just that I'm more nervous about this than I was about performing the Transfiguration in the first place. Supposing I do it wrong?" "Don't worry about it, just cast away – rest assured that my hand very much wants to be a hand again and will give you its full cooperation!" Minerva didn't even smile at that, but furrowed her brow in concentration, and then cast as quickly and forcefully as she could, before she could become nervous again. This time there was a smooth transition, as the fur rapidly disappeared, the fingers elongated, the palm widened, and his hand reappeared.

Albus flexed his fingers, and said, "Very good, Minerva." "May I see? Is it really all right?" "Yes, my dear, of course. And it certainly feels fine. In fact, I do believe my fingers feel more limber than usual." Albus smiled at her. Minerva took his hand, and in contrast to the painstaking examination she had performed before, simply held it, turned it over, and then bent his fingers forward and back again. Letting go, she declared, "Well, at least you don't seem any the worse for it! Was it as uncomfortable as the initial change?" she asked. "It looked like it went more smoothly." "No, it wasn't; in fact, although such a thing always feels peculiar, particularly when the spell is cast by someone else, I barely noticed anything beyond a kind of odd stretching and rolling. You did very well, indeed. I believe you will have greater success the next time you attempt it on your own hand. However, we have already missed lunch. Perhaps we could meet tomorrow afternoon, just before dinner, and resume."

Minerva was aglow from her success with the Transfiguration exercise and the prospect of another tutorial with Albus the next day. After dinner – during which she spent more time than usual just talking with her friends – she retired to bed early to reread Emergent Creature again. Minerva was as relaxed that evening as ever she had been. The rest of the term flew away at almost the blink of an eye and by the end of the year she had even successfully transformed into a tabby cat earning herself the affectionate nickname of Tabby from Albus. Despite the full and enriching year, Minerva felt something more than just sadness as she packed for her holidays. Albus had been away from Hogwarts on more than one occasion again and every time had returned looking more haggard. She had been unable to ask for a cause given they did not need to meet too often now after classes as she had finished her training and also her dueling lessons. Sally had been very down as well which added to her misery. With a heavy heart, Minerva at last made her way away from her castle for the holidays.