A/N: This is it. The final chapter of part 2. Part 3 will take place during the Harry Potter books, which I'll have to read again before I can continue writing. Until then, I hope you enjoy this chapter. I poured my heart and soul into it – for Albus and Minerva and for you, my wonderful readers. Thank you all so much for your love and support!
46. Out of the Ashes
She was walking around in a daze. Torn between happiness and sadness, elation and grief, hope for the future and guilt over those who would never get to see it.
James and Lily's sacrifice weighed heavily on her. It made her think of Robert, of how much she missed him every day and how incredibly unfair it was that so many parents had been robbed of the chance to watch their children grow up.
But it also made her all the more grateful to be able to see the rest of her family again now that they were free to come out of hiding. Her joy was true and overwhelming when she got to hold her nephew, Malcolm's son, for the first time ever. When he had been born at the height of the war, Minerva had stayed away. Just to be safe. She couldn't risk that her nephew would lose his father the same way her niece had. This war had taken a terrible toll on all of them. There had been too much death, too much loss, but there was also life.
Back at Hogwarts, the staff had a little gathering, something between a party and a wake. The mood was oddly subdued and relieved at the same time. Just like Minerva, many of her colleagues had counted James and Lily among their favourite students, but they couldn't pretend as though they weren't all breathing easier now that You-Know-Who was gone.
Horace had seemed especially jubilant, talking about how You-Know-Who mustn't have been immortal after all. But then, after a private conversation with Albus, he practically fled the room, muttering something about having to pack his things as he brushed Minerva on his way out.
Before Minerva had even opened her mouth to ask, Albus cut her off. "Will you take a walk with me?" he asked quietly.
"Gladly," she agreed.
They left the castle, refraining from holding hands, though with the entire wizarding community thrown into chaos and celebration, no one would have cared one way or another. Once they had walked far enough around the lake, they could be fairly certain that they were alone. They laced their fingers together instinctively then.
Somewhere off in the distance magical fireworks lit up the sky.
"This still seems like utter madness," Minerva said when she saw that.
"Agreed," Albus nodded.
"Mostly because I have no idea how to feel," she confessed to him. "I wanted all of this to be over for so long, and now it is, but it feels as if we lost."
Albus heaved a sigh. "Well, we certainly didn't win."
"But he's still gone, right?" Minerva asked quickly. She had asked him this the other night already, but it seemed crucial enough to ask again.
As always, Albus was patient with her. "He is. For now."
"What does that mean? For today, for tomorrow, for a year?"
"I honestly cannot tell you, Minerva," Albus replied, and she believed him. "But it won't be tomorrow."
That was better than where they had been before, she supposed. "Then there is some reason to be hopeful?" she wondered.
"Oh yes, there are a great many reasons," Albus said determinedly. "If we do not appreciate the freedom and the way of life we fought for, then James and Lily and everyone else who was lost will have died in vain. But their legacy remains. Young Catriona lives to follow in her father's footsteps. And so does Harry."
"How is he?" Minerva asked anxiously. "Did his aunt and uncle take him in?"
"They did."
"I can't imagine waking up one morning to find a baby on your doorstep," she mused.
"It was a bit of a shock," Albus conceded.
That was probably the understatement of the year. Minerva had watched those Muggles all day. They didn't strike her as the most loving and accepting people.
"Then you haven't changed your mind?" she asked gently. "About giving him to a wizarding family? I mean, we could even…"
"… take him in ourselves?" Albus finished her thought dubiously, both of his eyebrows raised.
"It's not crazier than leaving him with those people with nothing but a letter as an explanation!" Minerva defended herself, though she knew, of course, that it was a foolish suggestion.
"Those people," Albus repeated patiently, "are his blood. And blood can be a powerful thing."
Minerva scowled. "That sounds like something You-Know-Who would agree with."
"Except in this case, it's what will keep Harry out of his reach," Albus retorted.
"And that's better than your protection?" Minerva gave it one more try.
"Yes," Albus said simply. "I think what happened to his parents is ample proof of that."
Minerva stopped walking, forcing Albus to do the same. "James and Lily's deaths are not on you, Albus. You offered to protect them by becoming their Secret Keeper. They refused. There's nothing more you could have done."
They were now facing each other and Albus' eyes were soft and soulful. "It never ceases to amaze me how you insist on standing by me despite all my losses and failures. I have no right to, but I can only hope that you will find the strength to keep staying by my side."
Minerva lifted her free hand to his cheek. "You really are a silly, old man now," she said, taking in the white hair and beard. She couldn't have cared less whether it was white or brown. It was a bit long for her liking, but that didn't really matter either. Because what hadn't changed and would never change was how she could look into those bright blue eyes and see right to his heart. "I'm not going anywhere."
"I have always been old. You just refused to see it," said Albus. "And as for silly, well, I would certainly like to see you smile again."
"Then give me a reason to," Minerva challenged him, and she wasn't kidding.
If he said that there could be peace for now, that they could mourn their dead and then rebuild, rise back up and start anew in their honour, then she was willing to follow his lead, as she had always done. But she couldn't do it alone.
Albus clasped both of her hands in his. "How would you feel about becoming my wife?"
All the air whooshed out of her lungs and her mouth fell open in a soft 'O.' "Don't mess with me, Albus," she breathed.
"I'm not a very decent man – if I were, I wouldn't ask you to give yourself to me now that I'm finally truly too old for you – but I would never hurt you other than by loving you," Albus said tenderly. "I still cannot marry you in a church or in the Ministry, but there is an old tradition, a Scottish tradition," he added with a chuckle, "that allows me to ask you if you would agree to be handfast to me."
Minerva knew what handfasting was, but her brain was still struggling to catch up with her heart.
And so Albus continued, "It wouldn't be recognised by anyone, other than your fellow Scotsmen and -women, of course. It would be just for you and me."
Finally, Minerva gave up on finding the right words to say. She let go of Albus' hands so she could wrap her arms around his neck and kiss him.
"That's the only thing I ever wanted – for it to be just us," she whispered, her forehead resting against his. "But you know that handfasting was traditionally, while still binding, only a temporary marriage for a year and a day?"
"Mhm, a probationary period to ensure that 'the maid pleases her husband all the while' if I'm not mistaken," Albus replied, his eyes twinkling. "Somehow, I don't think that will be a problem."
"Oh, you'd better not," Minerva said and, at long last, she smiled.
Standing on a high cliff, surrounded by rolling plateaus and endless blue skies, Albus marvelled at how the Quiraing seemed virtually unchanged. Its wild, mysterious beauty untouched and untamed. He on the other hand felt like a completely different man than he had been the last time he had come here. He looked like a completely different man, too. With only one notable exception.
He was still in love with the same woman.
And even more remarkably, she was still here with him.
A blissful smile spread across Albus' face when he watched Minerva walk up to him. She was wearing a green tartan dress, traditional, warm Scottish colours, but no green could ever be as warm and brilliant as the green of her eyes when she joined him at the edge of the cliff.
The wind was playing with her hair, picking up individual strands and sending them flying in every direction. Albus could tell by the slightest of creases between Minerva's eyes that the unruliness annoyed her. But she refrained from tying up her hair in her usual bun that had long since replaced the more fanciful braids of her younger years. Other than that, though, her hair was still black as night and every bit as beautiful. She wore it open just for him, and Albus happily accepted that small token of her affection.
His own hair and beard didn't fare much better in the wind. Only they were now white and pure, in stark contrast to his soul. But today that didn't matter. Today he only existed in Minerva's eyes, and in her eyes, there was nothing but light in his heart. So he let his hair and beard fly as they pleased.
But he couldn't allow the wind steal the words from their lips the same way it tried to make off with their hair. So Albus gave his wand a tiny flick and the air quieted down around them, as though settling in to listen. By way of a thank you, the small frown on Minerva's face eased and she gifted him with a smile that grew ever more radiant.
Albus accepted that, too, and added it to the only possessions he truly cherished or even bothered to collect. Then he held out his hands to her and when Minerva took them, he realised that he needn't have used his magic to shut out the rest of the world. Her touch was the eye of every storm.
"Are you ready?"
They weren't completely alone, here at the edge of the world. Wearing a magnificent old kilt, Robert McGonagall Sr had agreed to guide them through the ceremony – a blessing Albus had never thought he would receive after all these years. As always, the two men were united in one goal. To surrender everything they had to ensure Minerva's happiness.
Albus had failed at that more often than he cared to admit. But he would soon have at least a year and a day to do better. And hopefully, another year after that. Perhaps he could stop counting one day.
They were already holding hands, so Robert reached for a red tartan sash and wrapped it securely around both of their wrists, binding them together. Perhaps a little tighter on Albus' side. If he thought that Albus might want to run off, he couldn't have been more wrong. It was his daughter who should have done the running a long time ago. But her feet were firmly planted and her hand was warm and safe in his.
Looking into the emerald depth of her eyes, Albus said, "I, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, take thee, Minerva McGonagall, to be mine forever. With my arms I thee hold, with my love I thee cherish, with my heart I thee protect, in fire and in flame, in faith and in strife, in life and in death, as long as you shall have me."
One breath, one heartbeat before he finished, "I plight thee my troth."
Her eyes gleaming and her voice ringing, Minerva responded, "I, Minerva McGonagall, take thee, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, to be mine forever. With my body I thee worship, with my love I thee cherish, with my soul I thee save, in courage and in fear, in pride and in loss, in light and in dark, as long as you shall have me."
A gentle squeeze of his fingers, a twitch of her lips before she finished, "I plight thee my troth."
Robert closed out the ceremony, and leaving their hands bound as they were, Albus pulled Minerva in for a kiss.
And just like that she was his, and he was hers. It was as simple as it was final.
When she nearly lost her balance for a moment, Albus intended to remove the sash, but Minerva shook her head. "Leave it," she commanded.
"Why?" he asked, not daring to defy her.
"Because without it, I might not believe that I finally got you to marry me," she teased.
Albus laughed, but Minerva's expression turned solemn.
"Don't you dare leave me any time soon," she whispered.
"I just promised you that I will always be right where you are," Albus reminded her.
Minerva fixed him with a gaze so piercing, the sheer force of her will could have held him in place, like a compass needle pointing due North. "Yes, and I would like you to take that very literally."
Albus pressed another soft, lingering kiss to her lips. "Don't worry, my love," he said, resting their intertwined hands on her heart. "I will never truly live anywhere you are not."
In truth, he didn't know how much time they had left together. But he knew that, for now, the days to come would be the best yet.