68. Chasing Dragons

"No password, no entrance."

"Yes, yes, I know the rules. But I'm not a serial killer, now am I? Speaking of which, I heard you were extraordinarily brave last year when Sirius Black tried to break in. I understand you're just doing your job. But so am I. And if you let me in – just to have a teeny-tiny look around real quick – I could feature you in my next article. I'm sure our readers would love to hear more about how you have been the one to protect the famous Harry Potter ever since he came to Hogwarts."

Before the Fat Lady could respond, Minerva burst onto the scene and glared at Rita Skeeter, who had just tried to talk her way into Gryffindor Tower. "What are you doing up here?"

The so-called journalist turned around and flashed Minerva a smile that was as fake as her three gold teeth. "Just having a look around. Mr Ollivander is still in the headmaster's office and some of the champions are stuck in class. We can't very well have a Weighing of the Wands without them. So I thought I'd make myself useful while we wait."

With her curiously rigid blonde curls, bright scarlet fingernails and rhinestone spectacles Rita Skeeter looked as though she hadn't done anything useful in all her life. "And what exactly were you hoping to find in the Gryffindor common room, which is completely off-limits to you?"

"Oh, you know, I'm just trying to add some colour to my article about our youngest Triwizard champion."

"You'll have to make do with what you find in the classroom where the Weighing of the Wands will take place – downstairs." Minerva indicated to Skeeter that she should head back towards the stairs and then followed her to make sure that she didn't take another detour.

The stairs and corridors were deserted since most students were still in class. Minerva was glad that she had Friday afternoons off or she wouldn't have been able to catch Skeeter sneaking around the castle. Unfortunately, she was now stuck with her.

"If I can't get a look at where our young Mr Potter sleeps, perhaps you can provide me with some insight into who this boy really is. Care to answer a couple of quick questions, Minerva?"

"I don't recall giving you permission to call me by my first name," Minerva said acidly, trying to put the younger woman in her place.

Her only response was a sycophantic smile. "Sorry, Professor. So what's it like teaching Harry Potter? Is he brilliant like his mother and knows all the answers or is he more of a rebel like his father?"

Hearing this woman talk about Lily and James as though she knew anything about them made Minerva clench her teeth in anger. "No comment."

Skeeter wasn't deterred and simply fired off another question. "Then how about this? Is he well liked? Does he have many friends or are his classmates too afraid of the Boy Who Lived?"

"No comment."

"Having taught him for three years now, what would you say are his chances of surviving the Tournament while only losing an arm or a leg maybe?"

Minerva's nostrils flared as she ground out the words, "No comment."

Finally, Skeeter paused and blew out a frustrated breath. "Your answers are just as scintillating as your lessons used to be."

Minerva met her gaze squarely and gave her a fixed smile of her own. "I'm sure you'll manage to turn them into outrageous lies regardless."

Skeeter raised one of her pencilled-on eyebrows. "I'm shocked," she said without sounding the least bit upset. "What did I ever do to you to deserve that?"

"Does it matter? Let's not pretend that you actually care about other people's feelings. You probably think of me as just another obsolete dingbat," Minerva replied and regretted it instantly.

This woman was a bloodhound. The only way to throw a bloodhound off the trail was not to give them any clues to sniff out. Minerva knew that and yet she had just handed Skeeter the reason (or one of them at least) as to why she hated her so much – and that reason might get her thinking about a whole lot of things she had no business thinking about.

Minerva could see she was curious when Skeeter's eyes lit up, even though they still looked entirely unfeeling. "Oh, I see. When I wrote that about Dumbledore, I just wanted to generate some interest. You try writing about the International Confederation of Wizards without putting your readers to sleep. But Albus Dumbledore... that's a name that gets people's attention. You know that better than anyone, don't you? After all, he's held your attention for... how many years now?"

This time Minerva didn't even bother with 'no comment.' She just picked up the pace.

So did Skeeter. "I mean, you've worked with him for, I don't know, a couple of decades now and before that he was your teacher when you went to school. You've practically followed in his footsteps ever since. So you must know him better than most people. Share some of that vast, intimate knowledge about Dumbledore with our readers, why don't you?"

It was exactly what Minerva had been afraid of. She had never forgotten that embarrassing article in Witch Weekly that had suggested that she and Albus had an inappropriate teacher–student relationship when he had really just been helping her to become an Animagus. Nor had she forgotten the even more embarrassing conversation with Headmaster Dippet that had followed that article. Every time a Daily Prophet reporter got bored with whatever was going on in the world and started sniffing around Albus, that memory came back to haunt her.

But if she showed any of that on her face now, they would be doomed. Instead, she forced a careless laugh.

Skeeter seemed to fall for it. "That! Whatever you just thought about, tell me that story!"

"I was thinking that you must be completely delusional if you honestly believe that I would tell you a bloody thing." Antagonising her was also a risk. But Minerva hoped that – as long as Skeeter didn't have anything concrete to go on – she and Albus were simply, and quite literally, old news. Especially compared to the Triwizard Tournament and all the young, interesting students competing in it.

Apparently, Skeeter reached the same conclusion because she kept her mouth shut for once. They had almost made it to the right classroom when Pomona hurried towards them.

"There you are!" she said, sounding harassed. "I told you to wait for me while I went looking for Cedric."

So Pomona had been the one to let Rita Skeeter wander off on her own.

The Daily Prophet reporter showed no signs of feeling bad about that. "Are the champions ready then? Is Harry Potter there yet?"

Pomona's face closed up fast. "Uh, no, I don't know. I told you I would get Cedric for you. He's the real Hogwarts champion. You should be talking to him, not to Potter."

Minerva's and Skeeter's facial expressions weren't all that different this time, a mixture of surprise and disbelief.

"What do you mean 'real'? The Goblet of Fire chose all four champions, did it not? Or are you saying there was foul play?" Skeeter asked, way too interested way too fast.

Pomona didn't seem to notice. "Of course there was foul play! There were never supposed to be four champions since there are only three schools. Cedric was chosen first. He's of age and he has the only right to compete. Potter is just doing what he's always doing."

"Oh really? And what's that?" Skeeter asked sweetly. She looked like a big, fat, ugly spider and Pomona had no idea she was about to get eaten.

Minerva saved her by pulling her away from Skeeter and off to the side. "Are you mad?" she hissed. "You can't tell her anything like that or she's going to write that you're pursuing a personal vendetta against Harry Potter, are in league with You-Know-Who and possibly have an illicit affair with Cedric Diggory!"

After staring at her for a few seconds, Pomona blinked. "Oh, don't be daft!"

"I'm not the one being daft here." She might be exaggerating a little. Then again, 'exaggeration' was Rita Skeeter's middle name.

"No, of course not," Pomona snapped. "Because Gryffindors never do stupid things just to get attention, like swindling their way into a Tournament they have no business competing in."

Minerva had suspected that something was up with Pomona when she had asked Filius to pass the salt this morning – even though the salt had been right in front of Minerva and Filius couldn't even reach it with his short arms. In the end Minerva had given the salt to the Head of Ravenclaw House so he could hand it to Pomona. It was completely ridiculous and Minerva wanted to clear the air. Now was just an exceptionally bad time to do it.

"Come on, Pomona. You don't really think that Potter wanted to compete," she reasoned with her quietly.

"He's constantly breaking the rules," Pomona insisted. "This is not out of character for him."

"There was no way for him to break this one," Minerva countered, her patience slipping.

"Why not?"

"Because no underage wizard could have crossed Dumbledore's age line." She gave Pomona a look, daring her to come after Albus, too.

Her colleague did not get the message. "Then perhaps the headmaster and the Ministry wanted Potter to participate all along and this was the only way to pretend like they didn't."

Minerva took a quick step closer to Pomona and used her full height to drive her point home. "I understand that you're rooting for Diggory. I even respect you for it, from one Head of House to another. But to accuse either Potter or Albus of wanting this, of conspiring to achieve this outcome – knowing that competing puts Potter in mortal danger – it's not just utter nonsense, it's incredibly unkind and I wouldn't have expected it from you."

Pomona didn't say anything at first, then her shoulders sagged. "I'm sorry, all right? I know what you're saying makes more sense. I'm just annoyed because this should be Cedric's time to shine – to shine a light on what Hufflepuff house can really do – but instead Potter is getting all the attention again, even if he didn't ask for it."

Trying to see this mess of a situation from Pomona's point of view, Minerva supposed she could understand that. "Then by all means, feel free to persuade Rita Skeeter to write about Cedric, if that's what he wants. But be caref..." She broke off when she realised that the Daily Prophet reporter had disappeared. "Where did she go?"

"What? She was just here..." Pomona turned in every direction. "Perhaps she went ahead to get ready for the Weighing of the Wands?"

Somehow Minerva had her doubts about that, but she said, "You should go and have a look. I'll see if I can find her anywhere else." Next time Minerva would put a tracking spell on her or better yet have Albus ban her from the castle altogether.

The first person Minerva ran into, however, was Colin Creevey. "Why aren't you still in class?" she demanded, her voice a little sharper than it needed to be.

Creevey yelped. "I was just in the hospital wing because I got bit, stung and burned by one of the Blast-Ended Skrewts all at the same time!" He said it as though such an injury was a badge of honour.

"Did Madam Pomfrey take care of it?" she asked since Creevey sounded mighty chipper. When he nodded, she went on, "Good, then I want you to go down to the dungeons and tell Professor Snape that Harry Potter is needed upstairs with the rest of the champions. And tell him yes, Mr Bagman wants Potter to come right now, even though class hasn't finished, and he needs to bring all his things because he's not coming back after. It's the empty classroom on the first floor. If there's a photographer from the Daily Prophet there, you're in the right room."

The boy was flabbergasted at the thought of telling Snape what to do, but Minerva didn't have time to hold his hand.

She continued to look for any signs of trouble and Rita Skeeter, which were synonymous in this context. Minerva was just about to give up and assume that Skeeter had in fact returned to the classroom when she saw that the door to the staffroom was ajar.

"Oh no, you didn't," Minerva muttered under her breath.

Oh yes, she had. Rita Skeeter was lounging in one of the chairs and rifling through the papers and scrolls of parchment Minerva and her colleagues had left on the table, some work-related and some personal.

Minerva swept into the room, her eyes bulging. "What do you think you're doing?"

Rita Skeeter didn't even flinch. "You refused to be helpful, so I had to find another way to gather some information. Looks like Mr Potter could use some help on his Charms homework." She nodded towards a pile of essays Filius had been in the middle of marking. The one that was on top now (though it hadn't been earlier) was indeed in Potter's messy handwriting. "Oh, and by the way, I heard that ginger root helps to relieve morning sickness."

At first Minerva was completely baffled by that non sequitur, but then she remembered Catriona's letter she had been reading earlier. A letter in which her niece had complained that the baby was still making her feel nauseous all the time. A letter Minerva had left in her copy of Transfiguration Today, which was now lying open on the table in front of Skeeter.

"OUT!" Minerva yelled, pointing towards the door. She couldn't get any more words out because she was shaking with fury. It was all she really needed to say. She meant out of the room, out of her sight and preferably out of the castle and out of her life, too. Sadly, the latter was unlikely to happen today.

Nevertheless, Skeeter left without protest. Probably because it was time for the Weighing of the Wands to begin.

Minerva could only hope that they would hurry and that it would be over soon.

Actually, that was true for the whole bloody Tournament.

On the eve of November 24, the first task looming in all of its terrible glory, Albus tried and failed to focus on anything he was reading. He was even more glad than usual to see Minerva walk into his study – until he saw the peculiar look on her face.

He lowered his book. "What did you do?"

"Nothing." Oh, how he loved her for never having learned how to lie convincingly. At least not to him. Well, he loved her for many reasons. But right now, that one in particular.

"Minerva." The warning in his voice was gentle.

She stopped in front of his desk and crossed her arms. "I'm serious. I literally did nothing."

"Please explain," Albus said. For once, he couldn't really tell what she was talking about.

"I just saw Potter and Miss Granger. They're practising for tomorrow in an empty classroom. It's way too late for them to be anywhere outside of Gryffindor Tower. They should have been in bed hours ago, but I let them continue," Minerva explained and added quickly, "Which is not helping Potter. I just... looked the other way."

Albus contemplated his next question, whether he should ask it or not, but he found that he didn't really care about should and shouldn't tonight. "While you were looking the other way, did you by any chance happen to see what it was they were practising?"

Her face split into a grin. "Now, now, Albus, I thought you were adamant about not wanting to cheat."

"And I thought you just pointed out yourself that we're currently doing nothing at all," he countered and Minerva inclined her head in agreement.

"Summoning Charms."

"Summoning Charms?" Albus repeated, his brow furrowing. What did Harry hope to summon that could help him fight his way past a... An idea struck him, an idea that was as bold as it was highly original, and it fitted Harry perfectly. He felt the knot in his chest ease just a little. At the very least, Harry seemed to have a plan. "I told you we shouldn't underestimate him."

Minerva's smile vanished again. "Except I remember Filius telling me that Potter's attempts at Summoning in his lessons were disastrous at best."

"But I dare say Miss Granger's weren't."

"Thank Merlin for that girl!" Minerva nodded. "If Potter gets through this Tournament, she deserves as much credit as he does, even if no one else realises it."

"I'm sure every man who only gets out of bed in the morning because of the quiet strength of a woman by his side will understand perfectly," Albus said softly.

Their gazes connected and Minerva walked around his desk to perch on the armrest of his chair and lean against his shoulder. "Tomorrow morning we should just stay in bed then."

It was a tempting offer. But since their absence wouldn't stop the Tournament, nor would it increase the chances of the two Hogwarts champions, it sadly wasn't practical.

At lunch the next day, the excitement in the Great Hall was truly palpable. Albus watched out of the corner of his eye as Minerva rose to her feet, looking as though she was walking towards her own execution. When she passed behind his chair, the urge to touch her was so strong that Albus sent a light magical caress her way. Her pale complexion brightened for a moment. But by the time she had reached the Gryffindor table and bent down to talk to Harry, it was hard to say who looked more terrified between the two of them. Minerva's hand hovered next to Harry's shoulder, wanting to touch and comfort him, but she stubbornly held herself back, at least as long as they were being watched. Albus' eyes followed them until they had left the hall together.

When it was time for everyone else to make their way to the dragon enclosure, Albus did so in the company of the other judges, with the exception of Bagman, who had gone ahead to explain to the champions what they needed to do. In all likelihood they already knew that because Olympe and Igor did a terrible job of pretending to be surprised when they saw the dragons. Albus didn't comment and tried to engage Barty in conversation, but he was extremely taciturn. He had never been much of a talker, especially not compared to Ludo, but he seemed withdrawn, unwell.

"Are you sure you're quite all right, Barty?" Albus asked him not for the first time as they took their seats at the judges' table.

"Of course," said Crouch curtly. "This should be exciting, shouldn't it?"

Albus frowned. Usually, Barty was more focused on the rules and the integrity of the event and left it to Ludo to worry about the entertainment. But there was nothing Albus could do about Barty's odd behaviour. The first task was about to start.

While Ludo hurried to take his seat and grabbed the microphone, Albus scanned the crowd. Minerva wasn't in the stands. She was down by the entrance of the enclosure with Poppy and Charlie Weasley where they were close enough to help the champions if necessary. He really hoped it wouldn't be necessary.

Cedric Diggory opened the first task and he did it by turning a stone into a dog as a decoy to distract his dragon. Albus smiled to himself. He could always appreciate a nice and successful Transfiguration and would never stop being partial to it. Sadly, the Swedish Short-Snout lost interest in the dog a little too soon and Mr Diggory got burned in the process. As much as he would have liked to, Albus couldn't give full marks for that. But it was a solid eight points in his opinion.

Miss Delacour's approach was entirely different and rather fascinating. Albus didn't immediately recognise the spell she used. It must have something to do with her Veela ancestry because Albus had never heard of a dragon being put in a trance before. Unfortunately, Welsh Greens snored in their sleep and when they did, fire came shooting out of their nose, which set Miss Delacour's skirt on fire. Albus gave seven points for that because the Beauxbatons champion had needed a lot more time than Cedric.

Viktor Krum on the other hand was direct and efficient, which wasn't surprising. He used the Conjunctivitis Curse – the most obvious way to attack a dragon. Unoriginality was no reason to dock points, however, so the Durmstrang champion would have deserved full marks if the Chinese Fireball hadn't smashed half of her real eggs because of the pain she was in. Albus could hear Hagrid's bellow of outrage. Only eight points after all.

Finally, it was Harry's turn and Albus leaned forward until he was sitting on the edge of his seat. As expected, Harry summoned his Firebolt and it looked as though he had never had any difficulty whatsoever with that particular charm. Minerva was right. Miss Granger really did deserve high praise for teaching Harry. Once he was up in the air, though, it was all up to him and his skills on a broomstick, which were extraordinary. Albus winced slightly when the Hungarian Horntail hit Harry in the shoulder with her tail, but he didn't lose his head. He kept flying as though the injury didn't bother him at all, dived for the Golden Egg and completed the task faster than any of the other champions. Albus wished he could have rewarded him for his outstanding bravery with a ten (both Maxime and Karkaroff had given their respective champions ten points). But Harry had been injured, so he had to make it a nine.

That put Harry in first place together with Krum. After Albus had spent several days and nights worrying whether Harry would make it through the first task at all, he had not only passed this test with flying colours, he had taken the lead. At this point, nothing that remarkable boy did should surprise Albus anymore. He vowed to remember that for the second task, which, mercifully, was still several months away. That realisation made Albus feel lighter than he had this morning. He was practically walking on air for the rest of the day, even though he never got a minute to himself to process everything properly.

Until he walked into his private sitting room later that evening and realised that he didn't actually want to be alone at all. Minerva was waiting for him, standing up to greet him. Their gazes collided and Albus was across the room in two seconds and he was kissing her. And kissing her. He knew there were still things to worry about, things that had bothered him immensely just a few hours ago. But right now he couldn't seem to remember a single one. All his demons had been momentarily defeated just like those four dragons.

Harry was fine. More than fine. He was bold and bright and brilliant. And he had done it all without his help. He hadn't needed him at all. And so Albus could just be for tonight.

Be with the woman he loved, who was right here in the beauty of this moment with him, no matter how short-lived. Her joy and relief rivalled his own and so did her passion. When Albus took her mouth in that unending, powerful kiss, she not only opened up for him but demanded more. He happily gave it to her. He would never ever stop giving when it came to her. In fact, he wouldn't have minded giving it all until there was nothing left of him. Whatever he was, whatever he was still destined to do, it all paled in comparison to the incandescence of their love. When it was no longer shackled by all their burdens. When they let it be as all-encompassing and earth-shattering as it could be.

Sadly, reality came crashing back in. They almost lost their footing, his knees buckled and he needed to tap into his magic to stop them from tumbling over.

"I'm sorry," Albus chuckled against her lips. "I remember being smoother at this once."

Minerva laughed easily and straightened her glasses. "I remember being young once and having no idea I could love you like this. Of course, I would love you even more had you given Harry ten points and put him truly in first place."

His eyes twinkled. "You know I couldn't."

"You're a judge. You can do what you want. Karkaroff gave him only four points for no reason at all other than that he's a…"

"Let's not talk about him, shall we?" Albus stopped her with another kiss to her very kissable lips that widened into a smirk.

"Let's not talk at all then."

He didn't have to be told twice. And he also didn't pretend to be something they were not. There was no need for any daring heroics. He only kissed her again once he had led her safely to the bed.

Where they could make love slowly, deeply and tenderly. He preferred it that way. It had something to do with his age, yes, but not so much in the sense of physical limitations. He could always make up for those with magic. He could not make up for lost time. So on a night like this that was both magical and passionate, which did not happen as often as it once did, he took his time loving her.

He made sure that she was happy and satisfied and ready for him. He used his fingers so he could keep looking into her eyes, so he could see what he did to her, which in turn did wonderful things to him, too. Never did he want their love-making to be painful for her, knowing he had to consider the way her body had changed with age as well. But Minerva was as fearless and sure of what she wanted as she had always been and she let him know when she was good and ready to have him. Soon he found himself right at the edge, release beckoning powerfully and enticingly, and he could hold out just long enough for Minerva to be right there with him again.

Only then did he allow himself to do what he could otherwise never do. He let go of everything he was and he fell. Kept falling without worrying about saving anyone, least of all himself, and he thought, surely, this was the sweetest way to go.

A/N: I thought I should take the opportunity to let them, uh, celebrate the good moments while they present themselves. ;) Thank you all for reading and reviewing.