81. One More Year

"Can yeh see how happy he is ter be back?"

The short answer to Hagrid's question was yes. He was talking about the Hippogriff Buckbeak, who did look like Hagrid's pumpkin patch was a wonderful place to be in.

This morning Sirius Black's last will and testament had been discovered. It was very short and straightforward. He had left it all to Potter, including number twelve, Grimmauld Place. Unfortunately, they weren't sure if that house could be owned by anyone who wasn't a pure-blood relative of the Black family. If not, the house would go to Bellatrix Lestrange.

The risk was obvious and entirely too great. Albus had left right away to clear the house of any evidence that it had been the Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix. He had insisted that there was no need for Minerva to come and overexert herself. Remus and Molly would help him instead. Minerva had grudgingly agreed to stay behind at Hogwarts. But she had left the castle and walked down to Hagrid's cabin as soon as she had seen Albus return several hours later – flying on a Hippogriff.

"Did you fly here all the way from London?" she asked incredulously when Albus had dismounted.

"It seemed like the easiest way to get him here," Albus nodded. Minerva had to admit that she hadn't really considered that Hippogriff-sized problem. Obviously, leaving Buckbeak in the attic all by himself hadn't been an option. "Don't worry. I used a Disillusionment Charm to hide us both. I only lifted it once we were near Hogsmeade."

Minerva's concern had nothing to do with the International Statute of Secrecy. "I wasn't worried that somebody could have seen you."

"Oh, what then?" Albus asked innocently.

"How about that you could have got tired somewhere along the way, fallen off and broken every bone in your body?" Minerva suggested with an involuntary shudder.

"Aren't you always trying to convince me that flying is a fun activity?" Albus reminded her. "I don't see the difference to a broomstick – except this has a lot more style." He patted Buckbeak's neck with an amused smirk. "I would offer you a ride, but since you've only recently left the hospital, I'd prefer it if you stayed with both feet on the ground for now." He quirked a brow in question. "Speaking of which, where is your walking stick?"

Minerva rolled her eyes at him. "If you can fly across country on magical beasts, I can bloody well walk across my own lawn without help!" Also, she had conveniently forgot to ask Peeves to give it back to her after she had lent it to him to hit Umbridge over the head with it.

At that point their conversation had been interrupted by Hagrid, who had flung himself forwards onto Buckbeak, crying big, happy tears.

"I'll keep him with me fer a bit an' then I'll see if he wants ter rejoin his old herd or maybe find a mate," the gamekeeper announced.

"That sounds like a good idea. He's probably been alone for long enough." Minerva agreed. Sneaking a surreptitious glance at Albus, she asked, "Do Hippogriffs mate for life, Hagrid?"

"Some o' 'em do, some o' 'em don't. I haven't quite figured tha' out yet," he admitted.

"Perhaps it's the same as it is for us. It depends on being lucky enough to find the right partner," Albus replied and Minerva could see him smiling at her out of the corner of her eye before he went on, "As long as you're keeping him here where everyone can see him, it might be best to give him a new name, just to be safe."

Hagrid scratched his beard. "I'm not really good with names. Yer the professors. Yeh should pick one."

"Hagrid, you're a professor as much as we are," Albus reminded him.

"Yeah, bu' nobody calls me tha'."

Albus turned towards Minerva. "Any suggestions?"

"Me? I don't even know him." Now that everyone was looking at her, Buckbeak seemed to think that there had to be something interesting about her. He came closer and kept nudging her with his head while he inspected her for any evidence that she had food or other treats on her.

"Looks as though he likes you just fine."

Minerva felt a little uneasy because of the Hippogriff's sharp beak, but she was glad to see the laughter in Albus' eyes. They had precious little reason for joy at the moment.

In the end, they settled on the name Witherwings.

As Hagrid led him away to feed him, Albus asked, "Do we have time for a cup of tea to warm up, you think?"

It was July. There should have been no need to warm up. But the weather had other ideas. Only, it wasn't really the weather. The Dementors were the actual problem. They had abandoned all pretence of being under the Ministry's control. They were attacking witches, wizards and Muggles alike and they were breeding. The result was this constant mist that had a way of seeping into the skin until one felt cold and miserable. Minerva couldn't even imagine how uncomfortable it must have been to fly through that.

"Of course. Perhaps we should reschedule for tomorrow. It'll be dark soon," she said. They had made plans to visit her family, but it was not going to be a social call.

Now that You-Know-Who had revealed himself at the Ministry and had no more reason to act overly cautious, they were truly at war again. The Dementor attacks were not the only evil he was spreading. Just like last time there were mass Muggle killings, giants were going on a rampage in the West Country and Death Eaters picked people off one by one. Deaths, mysterious accidents and sudden disappearances were reported daily. And the murders were getting bolder. Amelia Bones and Emmeline Vance had been the latest ones that had come as personal shock.

Unlike last time Minerva was not going to wait until a member of her family was killed. She would make sure they all knew how to behave in order to stay as safe as possible. She had asked Albus to come along so he could place the most powerful protective enchantments on their houses. He had agreed – on the condition that Minerva should stay with her family for a bit. He had argued that he had more research to do and would be gone for a couple of days anyway. In the interest of her family's safety Minerva had accepted that arrangement without asking too many questions.

Before Albus could respond to her offer to postpone their plans, he got distracted by something. Minerva turned to see what he was looking at. A tall, lonely figure strode purposefully up the path towards the Hogwarts gates. "Is that...?"

"... Rufus Scrimgeour," Albus finished her question. "Yes, I believe it is."

"What's he doing here? Do you think they finally gave Fudge the sack?" The whole country had clamoured for his resignation for days now. It was long overdue in Minerva's opinion. She had predicted his downfall months ago when he had been crazy enough to try to arrest Albus.

"Come to think of it, I didn't get any owls from Cornelius today, so you might be right," Albus mused. Minerva pursed her lips. That Fudge had been presumptuous enough to write to Albus and to beg him for help after the way he had treated him before... 'Good riddance' was all she had to say on the matter. As Head of the Auror Office Rufus Scrimgeour had been talked about as the best candidate to succeed Fudge. Minerva had no idea what to expect from him.

"Were you just leaving?" he asked curtly as they opened the gate for him. "Can you put that off for a bit? I'd like to have a quick word with you, Dumbledore."

"Actually, we were just about to have a cup of tea. You're welcome to join us," Albus offered.

Scrimgeour furrowed his brow. "I'd prefer to talk in private."

"And I'd prefer not to be rude by excluding Minerva after I just asked her to have tea with me. Anything you wish to discuss with me as Headmaster of Hogwarts Castle, you can and in fact should also discuss with her."

The look on Scrimgeour's face wasn't pleased. But he was smart enough not to start an argument before he had even got to say whatever it was he had come to say. For her part, Minerva would have been fine with not being included in this conversation and she was a little surprised that Albus was so insistent. She wondered if he was just tired of dealing with the Ministry on his own or if he had a different reason to put so much emphasis on her position as deputy headmistress.

They walked up to the castle and Albus conjured tea and biscuits from the kitchen as they entered his office. Albus took a biscuit and fed it to Fawkes, who was always hungry while he was growing. After taking a seat Scrimgeour watched him with a scowl and didn't touch any of the offered refreshments.

"As you may have already guessed, I have been appointed Minister for Magic. It'll be in the Daily Prophet's evening edition. It's only been official for about an hour or so."

"You have our sincerest congratulations, of course, Rufus," Albus replied as he sat down. "But I must say I'm surprised you took the time to come here. I'm sure there are more important things for you to do, interviews to give..."

"You have me confused with my predecessor," Scrimgeour cut him off. "I won't be wasting my time talking to the press. We have serious work to do, starting with making sure that Hogwarts is safe."

"I quite agree," Albus said, but he looked wary and Minerva knew why. The last thing they needed was more interference from the Ministry after they had just got rid of Umbridge. "I have personally renewed and strengthened the school's protective enchantments as you would have experienced for yourself had you tried to enter without us opening the door for you."

Scrimgeour nodded approvingly. "Good. I would also advise you to search the students' luggage, the post and everything else that goes in or out of this castle. The Ministry can lend you the necessary Secrecy Sensors."

"A reasonable precaution," Albus agreed.

"And I want to assign a couple of Aurors to protect the school," Scrimgeour went on.

This time Albus remained quiet.

Scrimgeour read his silence correctly. "I know your experience with Ministry protection has been... questionable at best. But these Aurors wouldn't interfere. They'd be stationed in Hogsmeade and would only guard the school's perimeter. They'd be here to help. I was thinking of Dawlish, Proudfoot, Savage and Tonks."

One out of four they could trust. That was better than nothing and probably not worth picking a fight over. Albus seemed to reach the same conclusion. "I suppose it can't hurt to be overly cautious and to have a few extra hands and wands nearby should we need assistance," he said graciously. Minerva knew he wouldn't actually entrust anyone with the protection of Hogwarts who wasn't either a teacher or a member of the Order or preferably both. But he clearly hoped not to start their relationship with the new minister on bad terms.

The same was true for Scrimgeour. He was simply less diplomatic, which was a bit odd for a politician. "Exactly. We're all on the same side, Dumbledore."

"There's no need to remind me. That's what I tried to tell Cornelius for months, but he wouldn't listen."

"I'm listening! I came in person because I want you to tell me what it is you're doing."

"I was under the impression that we're having tea and a rather insightful discussion," Albus said lightly, but his eyes had narrowed.

Scrimgeour huffed impatiently. "I meant what you're doing when you're not here. I know you've been working against He Who Must Not Be Named on your own or with a group of people you seem to trust. As Minister for Magic I need to know exactly what you're planning. We need to concentrate all our efforts and act united. Whatever we do needs to be properly supervised."

Minerva had kept her opinions to herself, but this felt like the right time to voice some of them. "For someone who insists that he's different than his predecessor you're beginning to sound a lot like him. We all know how the last attempt at supervising us worked out."

"Fudge was a fool," Scrimgeour snapped. "He had no idea what he was supposed to do."

"And you do?"

"I know how to hunt Dark Wizards and I know we don't stand a chance if someone on our side keeps going rogue."

"Rufus," Albus spoke up, "I wouldn't presume to tell you how to do your new job. I certainly wish you all the best for it. Other than that it's none of my business. Just as it is none of yours what I'm doing when I leave these grounds. But I don't see why you would mind as long as it results in weakening Lord Voldemort."

"What if it results in the opposite?" Scrimgeour retorted sharply. "What if it goes wrong and no one knows about it because you refuse to tell anyone what you're doing?"

Albus remained as calm and unfazed as always. "Not telling you is not the same thing as not telling anyone."

At first Minerva thought the minister would lose his composure, but he reined his temper back in. His tone was clipped, though, when he spoke, "Fine. If you need me to prove to you that I'm not Fudge and that you can trust me, we can continue this discussion some other time. But I need something from you in return. I need you to set up a meeting with Harry Potter."

Albus' answer was swift and succinct. "No."

"I know you're protective of him, but he's not actually yours to protect. People are scared and they've chosen him – quite literally – to be their symbol of hope. If he's seen working with the Ministry, it would be better for everyone."

To both Minerva's and Scrimgeour's surprise, Albus let out a short laugh, albeit a tired, mirthless one.

"What's so funny?"

"I'm just wondering how you intent to prove to me that you're different than Cornelius, even though the first thing you have done after having been appointed Minister for Magic is to come here to ask something of me that I have already declined when Cornelius asked me the first time. The fifty owls he has sent me since have done nothing to change my mind in the slightest."

Scrimgeour grimaced. "It's different. Cornelius wanted Potter to save his own hide. I want..."

"You want to use Harry the same way Cornelius wanted to use him," Albus interrupted him. For the first time he sounded angry as well. "The only difference I can see is that you weren't directly in charge of the abuse the Ministry subjected Harry to last year. Now that you are, I will not allow you to continue with it."

No one said anything as Scrimgeour pondered his options. As former Head of the Auror Office he was a good judge of character and he proved it by not even trying to push Albus any further. But he made his displeasure known as he stood very abruptly, his jaw clenched and his eyes cold. "I see now why no minister has ever been able to work with you. Perhaps you'll think differently about all this when the parents are so afraid that they refuse to send you their children and you're faced with an empty school."

"Why don't you let us worry about Hogwarts, so you can worry about governing without the help of a fifteen-year-old?" Minerva suggested icily.

Glaring at them both, Scrimgeour turned around and left, leaving this conversation decidedly unfinished.

Minerva waited until the door had slammed shut behind him. "That could have gone better."

"Actually, I think it went exactly as well as it could have." Minerva looked dubious and so Albus added, "On the bright side, he did not try to tell us who we should hire this year."

"True," Minerva nodded wearily. "We do need to hire someone, though."

"Yes, but not tonight." Albus circled out from behind his desk. "We have somewhere else to be."

"Are you sure you want to go today?" Minerva would feel better knowing her family was protected by Albus' magic, and the sooner the better, but not at the expense of his health.

"I'm sure. I had a nice, long nap on the flight over here. Buckbeak, I'm sorry, Witherwings knew the way better than I did." Albus drained his teacup and reached for another biscuit, not for himself but for Fawkes.

"Don't give him so much sugar! It's not good for him," Minerva stopped him.

Albus paused, treat in hand. He and Fawkes gave her similar looks of indignation. "Says the woman who got him hooked on sweets in the first place."

"Oh, I did that? You're the one who's had every single item they sell at Honeydukes as a password at least once."

"Ah, but I started choosing those only after you said that my passwords were too sinister and making you sad."

Minerva lifted a lazy brow. "You expect me to believe that?"

"Which part? That I don't actually have a sweet tooth or that I'd do anything for you so long as it's within my power?" Albus asked with a disarming smile. "I admit only one of those is true."

Laughing, Minerva shook her head. "All right, you can ease up on the charm and give him the biscuit."

Albus followed those instructions and then leaned in to kiss her while Fawkes happily gobbled up his treat.

With grim satisfaction Albus broke through the obstacles of nature, the thick trees, their trunks overgrown with weeds and sharp brambles, as well as Lord Voldemort's magical barriers and defences. There was not much left of the cabin that had once belonged to the Gaunt family. The roof had caved in some time ago and the debris was covered in moss and cobwebs. It was an appropriate reflection of what had happened to the former owners.

Their fate was of no particular concern to Albus at the moment. In fact, he was here to end the family line altogether, end the existence of the last surviving relative. That wasn't in his power just yet, but after years of searching he had finally found an important piece of the puzzle.

It was hidden in a golden box under the old floorboards. Now that Albus was here, the traces of Voldemort's magic were impossible to miss and he carefully and painstakingly removed all the safeguards, feeling a quiet sense of achievement.

Until he actually saw the Horcrux up close. Marvolo Gaunt's ring, a gold ring inset with a black stone. A stone engraved with a painfully familiar symbol.

The Elder Wand warmed in his hand as though in recognition. In reality it was probably just the heat welling up inside of him. Like a fever spike it shot right to Albus' head.

A Hallow. A Deathly Hallow.

After he had given up on his search, given up on the crazed, foolish dream of ever being worthy of uniting them, he suddenly, unexpectedly and undeservedly had found all three. Well, the third one wasn't here, but he knew where it was. He had never cared too much for the cloak anyway. But the stone...

The Resurrection Stone.

He had always wanted that one the most.

Albus' reasons for wanting it had changed, but they were no less powerful. Just the opposite, he realised, as he reached for the ring without thinking. Or rather, thinking only one thing. He could see them again. His father. His mother. Ariana.

He could see Ariana again and apologise for what he had done. For having failed her as a brother and as a human being. It was much too late, but if there was a chance that she could forgive him, he had to take it.

Slipping the ring on his finger, Albus fancied he saw her face for a split second. Then white, hot pain seared up his arm and he collapsed on the floor, writhing in agony. He was blind, blind from the pain. It burned him from the inside out. His blood was boiling, his skin was shrivelling up, his insides were twisting into a fiery knot.

Albus' heart was racing, trying to outrun this sudden attack – trying to outrun death – but it was beating more feebly with every desperate breath Albus struggled to suck into his protesting lungs. He knew he wouldn't be breathing for much longer if he didn't let go of the stone. The Hallow that was not only a Hallow but also a Horcrux and he had picked it up like a bloody fool.

Convulsing with anguish, Albus crawled across the dirty, grimy floorboards of the deserted cabin towards where he had dropped his wand. With the trembling fingers of his left hand he made a grab for it and then pried the ring off his dying right hand. It did not stop the pain. If anything, it made it worse. Clutching his wand, Albus muttered every counter-curse he could think of and worked every last bit of healing magic he possessed, but he was already so weak that some of the spells eluded him. Every nerve in his body was on fire and Albus began to understand why sometimes death was truly merciful.

But not like this. And not here where Voldemort would have wanted anyone who dared to come after him to succumb to his power. Pocketing the ring and his wand, Albus attempted to leave the cabin. He barely made it outside before he fell into the grass that was high enough to swallow him whole.

An uplifting, musical cry announced Fawkes' arrival in a flash of fire. It had barely been two weeks since his rebirth. Despite all the biscuits he had kept sneaking to him when Minerva wasn't looking, the phoenix was still small. Too small to use his magnificent abilities to bring Albus back to Hogwarts, even though he determinedly offered Albus the few quivering tail feathers he had regrown so far. Albus gave him a sad smile but did not reach for him. He could no longer move his wand arm.

Fawkes landed next to him and cocked his head. Tears gathered in his beautiful, beady eyes. One by one they fell onto Albus' blackening skin. It remained the same, but the pain eased just a little. Whether it was the magic of the phoenix tears or simply Fawkes' unswerving loyalty and companionship, Albus could not say. He found the will to hoist himself up again, just enough to turn on the spot and Disapparate.

The distance between the Hogwarts gates and the headmaster's office had never felt this vast. The castle was dark and empty and so was the gamekeeper's cabin. Minerva was still with her family and Hagrid had probably taken Witherwings for a walk in the forest. Somehow Albus reached his study, bolstered and accompanied only by Fawkes.

He laid Marvolo's ring on his desk and then stumbled over to the shelf where the Sword of Gryffindor gleamed. Using both hands to hold the sword was excruciating. With his last ounce of strength Albus brought the sword down on the ring. A high-pitched, angry scream echoed around the room as the stone cracked right down the middle.

Even now Albus could still feel it calling to him. The Horcrux had been destroyed by the goblin-wrought silver blade imbued with Basilisk venom – and a piece of Voldemort's soul with it – but the Deathly Hallow was as eternal as death itself. Albus could have tried to use it again... except he couldn't even stand upright.

He dropped Gryffindor's sword onto the desk as well and slumped into his chair. He had reached the end of his ability to do anything at all. And that included saving himself. He knew he must ask for help and his time to do so was running out.

"Severus," he only mouthed the name.

Fawkes, who had circled around him worriedly, disappeared immediately. Albus waited. He could no longer tell the time. Everything was becoming rather fuzzy inside his head as his vision dimmed.

The dark shape of Severus Snape was unmistakable when he entered the room. His eyes went directly to the sword and the ring lying on the desk and then snapped up to Albus, taking in his pitiful condition. In a flash not of phoenix fire but of billowing black robes the Potions master was by Albus' side. He pulled out his wand and began to speak counter-curses and healing incantations. Thankfully, he seemed to remember all the words and spells Albus had been unable to think of earlier.

Listening to Severus' rhythmic muttering was soothing and Albus closed his eyes. At some point Severus poured a thick potion down his throat and Albus swallowed it obediently. Slowly, ever so slowly he could feel the effects of Severus' expert defensive magic. He no longer felt as though he was dying. Only as though he was dying very, very slowly – which, as Severus explained to him, was exactly the case.

A year. More or less. At his age the idea that the end of his life was approaching was neither new nor foreign to Albus. But to know with absolute certainty that he was living on borrowed time was, admittedly, disconcerting.

"If you had only summoned me a little earlier, I might have been able to do more, buy you more time!" said Severus furiously.

Briefly Albus wondered if Severus' anger came from a place of affection for him, but that was probably a foolish thought. It was better for both of them if Severus didn't care for him. This unexpected death sentence gave them the opportunity to save a not entirely innocent but young and deserving life, Draco Malfoy's life. They could now give Voldemort exactly what he wanted. In less than a year Albus would die anyway. Before today he hadn't given much thought to how he would die. But he had hoped it would be more useful (he didn't dare use the word 'heroic') than to slowly waste away because of this curse. It would be easier to make his peace with his inevitable demise if he knew it would serve a purpose. Ultimately, he had killed himself with his own stupidity. But by letting someone else do the deed, say the actual words, he could pretend that it had all been worth it somehow.

But not Draco. Severus would have to do it for him.

Again Albus felt rather touched when the Potions master tried to refuse. His reluctance could have had more to do with the act of killing itself than the act of killing him. But Albus chose to believe that it was a bit of both. He had that right now that he only had a year left. What better time to see only the good in people? And so he thanked Severus.

"Don't thank me for agreeing to murder you!" he hissed.

"You and I both know that it won't be murder," Albus contradicted him softly. "One could argue that it can't even be called killing as I have already taken care of that part tonight." He glanced at his hand wryly. "So yes, I absolutely must thank you for agreeing to show me this mercy and for saving me tonight. For giving me this year. I'm sorry if you feel that I'm repaying you poorly for what you have done, but I am deeply grateful to you, Severus."

The other man looked unsure how to respond, but he didn't have to. The door to Albus' office was opened and Minerva walked in. Only to stop dead immediately. For a couple of seconds the three of them all looked equally surprised to see one another. Minerva hadn't said anything about returning to Hogwarts tonight. For the first time ever since he had known her, Albus found himself desperately wishing she had stayed far, far away.

The stunned silence lasted as long as it took Minerva to recognise what she was seeing. "Albus, your hand! My God! What happened?" As she rushed towards him, Severus fled the room without saying another word.

Minerva crouched in front of Albus' chair, hesitant to touch him in his current condition, not wanting to hurt him. Her love for him was etched in every beautiful line on her face. Underneath that concern glowed her fierce determination to make this right for him and to give him whatever he needed to get well again, whether that was a spell, a kiss or the very air from her own lungs.

In that moment Albus realised the true magnitude of the mistake he had made. The cardinal sin he had committed. He had sacrificed the living, the additional years he could have spent with this extraordinary woman who loved him unconditionally, for a fleeting, impossible reunion with the dead, who had long since been lost to him forever.

He heaved himself out of his chair and dropped heavily to his knees in front of her. "Forgive me," Albus beseeched her, his voice breaking. "Please forgive me."

Minerva's eyes widened with fear, but she wrapped her trembling arms around his shoulders and held him as he began to weep. Not because he was afraid of dying. He had never been less afraid of anything. But he feared that he would leave everyone who counted on him, everyone who loved and trusted him, worse off than they had been before they had come to care about him. He was terrified that Minerva would finally tell him what he had always known but pretended not to. That he had never deserved her love and now that it was too late and he had treated it so carelessly, she wished she had never given it to him.

When the sobs stopped racking his body, Minerva drew back but only so she could cup his cheeks in her hands and search his wizened face for answers. "Albus, what did you do to yourself?" she whispered shakily.

He was quiet, wondering how to put the incomprehensible and unbearable into words. "I went looking for a way to kill Voldemort and I found one, or at least the beginnings of such a way, but then I got distracted."

"Distracted?" Minerva repeated with a hint of the stern disapproval she usually reserved for her classroom. "By what?"

"By my past," he replied grimly. It wasn't the whole story, but it was what it came down to. There was so much he needed to say to her, he wouldn't waste his breath trying to explain the Hallows. "By my belief that I'm damned, despite my best intentions, to keep failing the people I love. And so, obsessed with my failure and consumed by it, I failed yet again, like a self-fulfilling prophecy."

"What does that mean?" Minerva asked. Her eyes seemed to beg him not to answer.

"I hurt Voldemort, but I also… hurt myself," he said, hesitating.

Minerva turned her gaze on his hand and she visibly swallowed a lump in her throat. A lump of shock, of pain on his behalf and perhaps also of revulsion. But mostly she tried to supress the knowledge what an injury like that had to mean. "It'll be okay. We can get a healer from St Mungo's or ask Poppy to come if you prefer a familiar face."

"Severus already did everything he could," Albus told her quietly. "There's nothing more that can be done."

"When you say nothing…?" She didn't finish that question, left it hanging there in the small space between them that suddenly felt as wide and deep as the open sea.

Albus closed his eyes, knowing he had to say the words but not sure if he could look at her when he did. At the same time he knew he had to. "I'm dying, Minerva. I picked up a ring that had been cursed by Voldemort. Severus managed to contain the curse for now, but it will get stronger. We can't hope to stop it from spreading for long. We have a year, most likely."

"No." Minerva shook her head.

"I'm sorry…"

"No," she repeated and stood up. "I do not accept your apology and I do not accept this. I'm getting Severus back in here. There must be another counter-curse or a potion he can start brewing. Or perhaps phoenix magic can help or some other magical beast with the power to heal. There's something out there to cure this." She headed for the door and reached for the handle.

"Minerva, I have no right to tell you what to do. But if you leave now to search for a way to save me that does not exist, I might not be here anymore by the time you come back," Albus said, still kneeling on the floor.

"Don't say that!" she hissed, not turning around, her eyes still on the door. "Don't you bloody say that!"

"It's the truth. As much as it pains me to say it and hurts you even worse to hear it. I wish I could let you take the time you need – minutes, hours, days, weeks – but unfortunately I have a rather limited supply of those to give away."

Minerva whirled around, her face white, her eyes wide, so wide with terror and rage and desperation. "Why aren't you fighting this?" she demanded.

Albus looked up at her, ignoring the ache in his knees. It was nothing compared to the pain from earlier. Even that he would have gladly endured forever if it had eased the blow of being forced to part from her. "Because there's nothing to fight. It would be a complete waste of my time. Time I do not have. I have a year, Minerva. A year and so much to do that I haven't even begun to grasp it all. But there's one thing I do know. Every breath I take now, every morning I wake up, every time I get to open my eyes again… if you're not there, it won't be worth anything to me. Anything at all."

Minerva stared at him and stared and stared. Her nostrils flaring, her bottom lip quivering, her eyes raging and burning and pleading. "I can't…" she began and broke off, her throat working. "I don't… I don't know how to live with this," she managed, her voice raw and cracked. "I am nothing without you."

He hadn't planned to get back up from the floor until he had found some way to earn her forgiveness, but now he had to. Down here he was drowning in her pain. It wasn't easy to find the strength or the balance to rise. Once he finally stood, he said, "That is the most outrageous lie I have ever heard you tell."

"Except, I've never been able to lie to you, have I?" Minerva countered. Tears were cascading down her cheeks, silent and haunting. "You made me who I am. You can say that I did it all on my own, but at every important turn in my life you were the one who made me want to be better. You've been at the centre of my world since I was eleven years old. There are so many pieces of me that are really pieces of you and I can't tell them apart anymore. I don't know how and I don't care to. You are my life, Albus, and by God, when you leave, you'll end me."

Her words eviscerated him. "I refuse to believe that and I wish you wouldn't believe it either." Swaying precariously, Albus reached for the edge of his desk to steady himself. Out of habit he used his right hand. The pain was instant, sharp and paralysing. He stumbled and fell.

Minerva caught him and sank to the floor under his weight, groaning and grimacing.

Lying in her arms, Albus gave up. "I don't know how to make up for what I did to you or how to regret it without regretting it all, which I could never pretend to do."

"Good," Minerva growled. "Don't you dare apologise for loving me. Or for fighting… Voldemort."

"Now you're saying his name?" Albus asked exasperatedly.

"Now I have nothing more to lose."

Remembering to use his left hand, Albus reached up to caress her cheek. "That is not true. If I am a part of you, like you said, then you'll only lose me if you give up on yourself. If you are who I inspired you to be, then my death will be inconsequential in the face of what we have created together and what will be yours to protect and preserve."

"Do you realise what you're asking of me?" Minerva's expression was mutinous, but still she leaned into the touch of his palm.

"Something I could never do." He had experienced a taste of it during her stay in St Mungo's and that had been terrifying enough. "I'm fully aware that dying is easier than living, though it's by no means easy to accept either way."

"Then how can you be so accepting of it? Why am I the only one who's scared?"

"Well, I've always said that to the well-organised mind death is but…"

"Oh, shut up, will you!" Minerva snapped.

Albus chortled and nearly choked on the sound. He found enough strength to sit up on his own again. "Death doesn't scare me. Being without you does. I don't know where we go from here. How we learn to say goodbye or face the reality of not seeing each other, though I realise it'll be easier for me as I won't see or be anything for much longer. Still, I can't help feeling that we were given a gift. The gift of another year. A year to love you more every day than the last. That is the only way forward I can see."

"One day at a time?" Minerva asked quietly, doubtfully, but willing to cling to any kind of bargain that wasn't completely impossible to bear. Anything that allowed them to get up from this floor and actually live the life together that they had left.

Albus nodded. "One day at a time."

"Just promise me you'll tell me." She leaned forward and pinned him down with the intensity of the emerald spark in her eyes. "When you get worse, when… the time comes. If you expect me to have the strength to go on without you, you should bloody well have the strength to look me in the eye and tell me that you're leaving me behind."

"If that is what you want," he agreed, inclining his head slowly.

Minerva snorted. "It's not what I want. But I was always terrified that I'd turn around one day and you'd just be gone. At least this way I know I'll have the chance to tell you."

"Tell me what?" Albus asked, holding her gaze, feeling that he must know even if it might hurt him.

But Minerva's voice was soft and the only thing capable of soothing the ache in his heart. "That, if given the choice, I would fall in love with you all over again."

A/N: I'm sorry. I know this was intense. If it was difficult for you to read, I can assure you it was at least as difficult for me to write. But I always knew that Albus would have to tell Minerva the truth about what's going on with his hand (minus a few, ah, details). Because what I love about Albus and Minerva (at least MY Albus and Minerva) is that their relationship only grows stronger and more beautiful in the face of adversity. I will do my best to reflect that in the next couple of chapters.