The doors to the Great Hall opened. As Minerva strode inside at the head of the first years, the Hall erupted into thunderous applause. The Gryffindors were naturally the loudest, but it wasn't for the Ravenclaws' and Hufflepuffs' lack of trying. Even the better part of Slytherin House was joining in. Mistaken in the belief that the applause was for them, the first years grinned broadly.
Albus couldn't help but smile himself, watching Minerva blush as the applause refused to die down. When she gazed his way, Albus gave a slight bow of his head and raised his goblet to her.
He had kept his word. He could not abide the thought of putting her in anymore danger than she already was in. They had said their goodbyes and shared his bed for the last time the night before.
Minerva seemed to have finally, if not willingly, resigned herself to it. She hadn't tried to reason with him or alter his resolve. Perhaps it was the fact that this time it had been her choice, and not a unilateral decision on his part? Whatever the reason, she had had a certain calm, a contentedness to herself that hadn't been there before. It had made things considerably easier, but Albus wouldn't exactly describe himself as joyful at her obligingness.
Still, one did what had to be done.