"She stood you up?"
Albus looked awry at the portrait of Emeric Switch, as he frowned his disapproval. Up until several seconds ago, this phrase hadn't even crossed his mind.
"No," the wizard replied calmly, scanning the Entrance Hall in search of a familiar face. "She'll be here. She's simply running late."
The knowing look with which Emeric shook his head was unnerving. As if he'd seen it all over the many years of hanging right next to the front doors. The portrait had evidently forgotten that professors were very busy people. Especially the House Heads. Something might have come up in the last moment. This exact thing had happened to Albus enough times not to be judgmental.
Subconsciously, the wizard shifted his weight from heels to toes. Almost always being the busier one, he wasn't used to waiting. Having troubles to stand still, he checked his watch for like the tenth time and resumed his walk around the hall, trying to think about anything else.
"Professor? Excuse me."
The wizard's head shot to the left. His pulse quickened way before he recognized the voice.
"Mr. Scott," he said in mild surprise, greeting the approaching student. The boy's worried face indicated that he clearly had a favor to ask. "Is something wrong?"
"Yes, sir," informed Mr. Scott in a tone that clearly reflected the gravity of situation. "We're supposed to have a choir rehearsal. But our classroom? It's unusable. Someone's taken it without permission. Could you help?"
Several long seconds had passed as Albus weighted his options. Since he'd become the Headmaster, it wasn't his job to solve such trivial problems. Students didn't approach him anymore. If he wanted to, the wizard could easily send this Ravenclaw away. But then, after a quick look around, he was reminded that it was long after the bell. No other teachers were out of their classrooms. To help the boy, he had to think of a solution himself.
"Pardon my inquiry," said the teacher with kind interest, "but can't you use a different room?"
The young wizard eyed him with stunned disbelief.
"With no prior notice? Impossible! The acoustics alone would take ages. Please, Professor."
Now, Albus was torn. On the one hand, he definitely shouldn't abandon the meeting place. Yet, on the other, fulfilling Mr. Scott's request had an added benefit of providing him with a much-needed distraction. Honestly, how long could it take to sort things out with Peeves and clean up his mess? He'd be back in no time – and hopefully so would Minerva.
"I'll be right back," said Albus to the portrait. Then, he nodded at the boy. "Lead the way."
Following the student's footsteps, Albus was thinking of arguments that would work best on a poltergeist. However, this turned to be a rather short walk. The problematic classroom wasn't that far away from the entrance.
The Frog Choir let him through. The toad croaking muffled when he closed the door. Only then, the wizard heard crying. He pricked up his ears. This practically ruled out Peeves. Myrtle, maybe? He wondered, listening in for the source of the sound.
It turned out to be neither.
Someone very corporeal was hiding behind the teacher's desk, sitting on the floor with their back turned to the door. Whether this person had heard him come in, he wasn't sure. Slowly, the wizard arced around the furniture to properly face them.
He succeeded only partially. The witch's head – which he judged from the attire – was resting on her arms, the rest of her face entirely covered by her long dark hair. To Albus's best knowledge, she was dressed in fancy Muggle clothes that fit well together. These features didn't match any of the staff members. His guess was that he was now looking at a sixth- or seventh-year student experiencing her first heartbreak. Nothing uncommon among the teens. However, he found it truly disheartening that her peers didn't try to cheer her up but called for a teacher instead. Unluckily, all he could propose was a visit to Madam Jacobs or the girl's Head of House. Which he had every intention of doing.
As the student refused to look up, Albus decided to do the first step. Leaning forward, he said gently,
"Hello, dear. Excuse my intrusion, but –"
Her head shot up at once, causing the wizard to flinch. Her green, swollen eyes gazed at him in horror.
His heart stopped. Eyes red from tears, looking as miserable as he'd never wanted her to be, there was –
"Minerva…?"
His involuntary irritation at being stood up evaporated instantly, making space for the worry crease that deepened on his forehead. He kneeled down beside her. Brushing her shoulder with the back of his hand, he asked as softly as he could,
"Hey, what's wrong?"
Minerva opened her mouth, her jaw visibly shaking. She tried to tell him but was unable to. Her voice refused to cooperate. The witch reached under her glasses and rubbed her eyes as dry as she could. When she forced herself to look back at him, her lips were so thin they were barely visible.
It became obvious to Albus that she was fighting a lost battle to keep her emotions at bay. His heart sank. He was at a loss as how to console her, so that he wouldn't make things worse. Lack of any information wasn't working in his favour.
Suddenly, there was a loud knock, followed by a squeal of the hinges. The croaking returned.
"Professor?" said Mr. Scott, leaning into the room through the open door. Two more heads peeked over the boy's shoulder. "Can we like get in, or…?"
Inwardly cursing at the students' timing, Albus jumped to his feet, shielding Minerva from their view. He had to think fast.
"No. It's taken," he said much harsher than intended. "Classes canceled. Please leave and close the door."
Despite staring at one another in evident confusion, the students retreated without further questions.
This time, the wizard locked the door; regulations be damned. As an afterthought, he also put an Imperturbable Charm on the room entrance, preventing any possible eavesdropping. He was fully aware that any interruptions could lead to Minerva shutting herself off completely. He wasn't willing to take that risk.
When Albus turned back to face her, he was relieved that his friend wasn't trying to make him leave. With a trembling hand, she conjured a handkerchief to blow her nose.
Slowly, the wizard sat down next to her, pausing before leaning his back against the desk. Giving her the time to respond in case his actions were unwelcome. Avoiding direct eye contact, he observed her closely in the corner of his eye. He noted how again she tried and failed to speak to him, biting on her lower lip instead. How her fingernails dug painfully into her thumbs. And, when this didn't work, how she squeezed one hand with the other until all her knuckles whitened.
The efforts she put into not breaking up in front of him were as admirable as they were unnecessary.
"It is okay to cry, Minerva." Albus tried to reassure her. "It's alright to be sad."
She gave out a dull chuckle that had nothing to do with cheerfulness.
The wizard sighed inwardly but didn't push her further. Realizing that having a real conversation was out of the question, he opted for non-verbal forms of communication.
He found Minerva's hand and gave it a light squeeze, letting her know that he's there in case she needed him. While she didn't squeeze back, he felt her shift her weight to lean against his side, propping her head against his shoulder. He could hear her uneven breaths, feel her tense muscles, sense the warmth radiating from her body. Absentmindedly, Albus let his thumb softly caress the back of her hand.
As they sat in comfortable silence, the witch's breathing started to even out. The moment he should say something to her was rapidly approaching.
But Albus was afraid to speak.
The one and only time he saw Minerva in a similar state was when she mourned the death of her parents. Back then, he also found her alone in an empty classroom, unwilling to speak to anyone. With all the resemblance, he couldn't begin to imagine what tragedy must have happened this time.
He knew he missed his time when Minerva's quivering voice pulled him out of his thoughts.
"Aren't you going to ask?"
The witch gave him a meaningful look. Frowning in determination, she readied herself for the inevitable, perhaps expecting a long overdue what happened or why are you crying. She seemed puzzled when he offered,
"Only if you're ready."
There was a pause. Minerva's gaze went to the side as she checked in with herself. After a long breath out, she curtly nodded. Only then, Albus went on.
"Do you wish to tell me? About what upset you?"
She gave another nod, but no words came out.
"Where do I even start?" The witch snorted, clenching the hem of her skirt. After a long moment, she settled on the beginning. "Today, I went to visit my parents' – graves."
Albus felt a lump forming in his throat. He felt like such an ignorant. How could he have forgotten the significance of today's date? When Minerva asked him for her first day off ever, he never batted an eye. He was such a fool for not digging deeper!
It wasn't the time for self-reflection, though, as the witch went on.
"There, I met someone I wasn't expecting to meet. An old friend. Dougal…"
She said his name with such tenderness that one thing became obvious. Whoever this man was, he meant a great deal to her.
The harder it must have been for Minerva to utter these next words.
"He and I… We dated before I left for London. We were supposed to get married." She needed a moment to stop her voice from trembling. She wrapped her fingers tightly around Albus's now still hand. "All these years, I was so terrified to face him. I was sure that I ruined his life. But when I noticed him on the street, I couldn't just walk by. I walked up to him. He turned around. I couldn't believe it at first, but… He smiled! He was actually happy to see me. He asked me how I've been, as if nothing ever happened. And then, he told me to come after him – and he… He introduced me to his wife! Can you believe it?
"He's already married. They're having a baby; he's starting a family. And where am I?" She gave a hollow laugh. "Alone, crying my eyes out because the man I dumped moved on! I'm such a fool – a hypocritical fool who cannot make up her mind…"
When she was drawing a breath, Albus interjected.
"You can't possibly mean that, Minerva."
In response, she briskly whispered,
"Right now, I do."
Her entire body began to tremble. The witch gave out a series of gasps, still refusing to let the tears flow. Helpless, Albus was thinking of embracing her, but she wouldn't let go of his hand. So instead, he tilted his head, resting his cheek against her hair.
Thankfully, next time Minerva spoke, her voice was much stronger.
"How come I still have feelings for him?" she asked, still sounding angry and frustrated. "I shouldn't have. We knew each other for three months, haven't spoken in over three years! It's more than enough time to forget all about him – isn't it?"
Sure this was a rhetorical question, Albus said nothing, not wanting to interrupt her sudden outburst. But when Minerva shifted to look him in the eye, he learned that she was in fact waiting for his answer.
Frowning slightly, the wizard wondered what made her come to these conclusions. It pained him to hear how little understanding she offered herself. He couldn't begin to imagine what conflicting emotions must race through her head. Leaving her to wonder if she'd made the right choices. Causing her to think that this woman she'd met today could have easily been her.
To shift her perspective, Albus used the same trick that dear Pernelle Flamel had once tried on him.
"Let me tell you a story, Minerva. Once upon a time, there was a little girl in my House. Let's call her… Mindy. On her birthday, Mindy was gifted a pet toad. She named him Travis. Mindy loved Travis dearly. Regretfully, not long after, there was a tragedy. Travis didn't make it. Poor Mindy cried for weeks."
Owning a beloved pet herself, Minerva instinctively felt sorry for this girl. However, she couldn't grasp Albus's point.
"If this girl came to you, would you tell her that her behaviour was ridiculous?" he asked calmly. "That she ought to move on and forget about Travis because she only had her toad for a few days?"
Frowning, she shook her head. The wizard continued.
"Would you deny the little girl's feelings? Find them blown out or inadequate?"
The witch scoffed. "Of course not, Albus! What kind of a monster –"
"Then why?" He raised his voice to cut her off. "Why are you doing this to yourself?"
Minerva opened her mouth, a retort ready at the tip of her tongue. Because she was no child. She should have been more emotionally mature than an eleven-year-old. But then, was this even his point? In his tale, she was supposed to be the teacher, not the child.
This gave her a pause. She repeated Albus's question in her head. What was that thing she was doing to herself, again? Denying her own feelings? Was she truly? The longer she thought about it, the more she noticed what he was trying to say. In silence, the witch closed her mouth, swallowing bitterly.
When it turned out that she had no answer to his question, the wizard was able to finish his tale with a punchline.
"Give yourself the space to grieve, my dear. If not for what was, then for what could have been."
Minerva's temples ached in throbbing pain. The corners of her lips turned down while her sight became blurry. Again, she was on the verge of tears. Because, for the first time, the witch felt sorry for herself. She finally acknowledged how her decisions affected her life and not Dougal's. True, he was dumped by his fiancée, but it was she who was forced to choose between love and remaining true to herself. He was left with only a letter, but she had to live with the thought of hurting someone she cared for deeply.
Without thinking, she wrapped her arm around Albus's elbow. Her other hand grabbed his, holding it in a tight grasp.
"How come you always know what to say?" she asked quietly.
"Is that how you see me?" The wizard snorted in incredulity. "The truth is, I'm terrified of making mistakes. Alas, the best I can do is make an educated guess."
Noticing her glassy eyes, the wizard gave Minerva the time to process. His experience told him that, even if he tried to fill the silence with more talk, she'd soon turn off and stop paying attention. It just so happened that, as he soon learned, her mind had already wandered elsewhere, to a more urgent problem.
"Why aren't there any spells for emotional pain?" she questioned, rubbing her temples. "They would sure come in handy."
"Love is its own kind of magic, Minerva," he replied in a knowing tone. "It makes people do wonderful things, but it also hurts them when it doesn't find a way out."
"Then I hate love."
For emphasis, she pulled her knees up under her chin, making an excessively grumpy face. She vividly resembled a stubborn child who was offended with the entire world. It took most of the wizard's self-reserve to stifle an amused chuckle.
"Do you?" he asked softly, shifting his position to face her. "Do you hate having loved Dougal? Do you wish you two have never met? Never connected at any level?"
"I – I don't know! I don't think…" She battled her thoughts under his inquiring gaze. At last, she said, resigned, "No. I don't."
Now that they cleared that up, Albus's mind went back to a very significant detail. Carefully choosing his words, he inquired her about it.
"If I might pry a little, one thing concerns me… Why would you think that you ruined this man's life?"
Minerva's lips formed a thin line. It was evident that this memory caused her pain.
"I left him without a word," she stated in a sharp voice. "Soon after we got engaged. I never told him why."
Albus's brows went up. This didn't sound like Minerva at all. He was certain there was a story behind her statement – if not the whole novel, then at least a few chapters. But if the witch wasn't volunteering the details, he wasn't going to drag them out of her.
"I'm sure you had your reasons," he said with conviction, following with a rather bold statement. "If I may share my opinion, Minerva, I think it was his loss, not yours."
Minerva scoffed. She was not to be easily swayed.
"How can you say that? You've never even met him."
But Albus simply looked her over, allowing a warm smile to creep onto his face. In a low voice, he told her,
"Because I know what he's missing."
She wasn't sure what it was about his words, but something inside her broke. Her walls were falling down, one by one. All the emotions she'd already put under control came flooding back.
Before she knew, Minerva's eyes prickled with tears. She swallowed, trying to get rid of a salty taste in her mouth. But it was too late. Soon, she felt the droplets tickle her cheeks. Somehow, she didn't have the urge to wipe them away.
"Do you want to tell me more?" Albus's soothing voice slowly calmed her down, just as his thumb rubbing circles over her fingers. "Who was Dougal? What do you miss the most?"
"There's so much to say," she admitted, her mind suddenly drawing a blank. "Let me think… Dougal is a Muggle. He lives in my hometown. We met during the summer after my graduation. He remembered me, you know? From back when we were kids…"
Before she realized, the witch told her friend about all the once-happy memories. The day they met. That time Dougal offered to help her and Malcolm clean the house. The dinner with his parents. A late swim in the lake. Climbing haystacks until she had troubles getting down.
Through the whole time, her voice remained cold and reserved. Because if she didn't distance herself, it would break her in an instant. It was hard for her to think back. Although, had the witch decided against it, she would fail to remember that there used to be good times, too.
Recalling her past life with Dougal mentally exhausted Minerva. However, now more than ever, she needed affirmation that her feelings were normal. That what was happening to her wasn't an isolated incident. That others went through similar hardships, too, when their relationships ended. She changed the subject.
"Albus?"
"Hmm?"
"Have you ever… loved someone?"
He felt his cheeks burn. It surprised him how easily the answer left his lips.
"Yes," he whispered.
Intrigued, Minerva looked up, searching his face.
"Is it okay if I ask…?"
The wizard cleared his throat, meeting her gaze not without difficulty.
"Yes," he said in a louder albeit distant voice. "But maybe another time. Now isn't about me."
The witch felt like the vanishing step disappeared from right under her foot. Despite Albus's good intentions and apologetic expression, she experienced his response as a form of rejection. She always feared less when knowing what's ahead and how to deal with it. If he'd known that, she bet he wouldn't have said no. Refusing to give up, she clarified.
"No, that's okay. I want to hear it. You know so much about my past. I want to learn about yours."
Giving her statement a thorough thought, Albus heaved a heavy sigh. Minerva's request was reasonable, of course. At least, as reasonable as it could be without her knowing the whole story.
But he also had his reasons. With a solemn expression, he stated so quietly that she barely heard him,
"I'm afraid you'd hate me if I told you."
He felt a light prod on the ribs when she asked, "Or maybe I'll surprise you?"
There was a glint of hope in Albus's eyes. He swallowed hard, trying to calm down his heart that nervously hammered in his chest. But, even though she seemed keen to listen, the wizard wasn't sure he was ready for any revelations on his part. Truth be told, he probably hadn't been in the past twenty years. He'd never talked through his grief with any of his friends. Because, whenever he thought back to that particular period in his life, he felt like the young and terrified young wizard that he was back then.
Maybe this was indeed the high time to fight his own demons? To let Minerva fight them with him if she so desired?
Evidently, he was running out of excuses not to tell her. Now that she asked him directly, to avoid the discussion would be to openly lie. He searched her face for answers. In the falling dusk, he was having trouble reading her expression. The wizard waved his hand to turn on the lights. This didn't help much, as Minerva was now squinting her eyes. Thankfully, he'd already made up his mind. Staring into the distance, he said,
"When I was seventeen, my neighbour introduced me to her nephew. He was a brilliant young man with big plans for the future. We quickly found a common language, spent a lot of time together challenging our abilities, searching for the Deathly Hallows. I enjoyed our long discussions that lasted into the night. At some point, we started making joint plans – travel plans, among others. I never told him how I felt, and nothing ever happened between us. I'm not certain this was love, but it's the only way I can justify turning a blind eye… on so many things."
His words felt like a punch to the gut. For more reasons than he could imagine.
"What's his name?" the witch asked, her voice constricted.
Several heartbeats later, she barely heard him say,
"Gellert… Grindelwald."
His eyes shut tight, as if he was getting ready to receive a blow. He expected her to pull away – or to push him away instead. She was going to. Any minute now. Why wasn't she –?
"I guess we don't get to choose whom we love, do we?" said Minerva in a high-pitched voice, trying to sound casual. However, her lighthearted tone disappeared completely when she followed with, "Do you still have – feelings? For him?"
The silence dragged on. After so long she was sure he wouldn't answer, the wizard stated in a strangled voice,
"You can say I opened my eyes once he attacked my family."
The witch wasn't sure she heard him correctly.
"He – attacked? Your family? – How? Why?"
"We wanted to travel together after my brother went back to Hogwarts. We'd take my sister with us because she'd have no one else to care for her. Aberforth disagreed. He said she was in no state to be moved. Gellert got mad. He Crucio'd Aberforth. I tried to stop him – so he raised his wand against me, too."
"How did it end?" she asked with bated breath.
At this moment, Albus's voice – miraculously calm and collected – shook just as Minerva's did not too long ago.
"Ariana started to scream – she got in the middle of our fight, trying to stop us – a spell hit her – and she didn't make it…"
The tears in his eyes began to overflow. Yet, he didn't seem to care. In a quavering tone, the wizard continued.
„Merlin's beard, even after that, I tried to defend Gellert – to find reasons for his actions. I was so desperate to take the responsibility off my shoulders… until Aberforth proved me wrong."
Absentmindedly, Albus's hand went to his face, where he rubbed his crooked nose. His eyes dimmed as he hunched over and wept in silence, his tears wetting his cheeks before disappearing into his beard. He failed to predict that these decades old wounds would reopen with such force.
After Merlin knew how long, he was startled by Minerva's small hand, which gently rubbed the place between his shoulder blades. Soon after, he heard her cry right beside him, apparently seeing no reason to hold back anymore. He knew this was selfish, and yet Albus hoped that at least some of her tears were for him.
Once the witch broke down, she couldn't stop. She felt a heavy weight lifted off her chest – a weight she never realized was even there before. To her incomprehension, it somehow seemed like letting the tears fall without a care in the world was the right decision all along.
She continued to sob until her glasses were all fogged up.
After cooling her warm cheeks with her sweaty hand, the witch put finally herself back together. There were certain missing pieces in this story that needed clarification. Gently patting Albus's back to get his attention, Minerva asked,
"It's easier for you, isn't it? Blaming yourself?"
Under her palm, she felt him snort with a humorless chuckle.
"I can't see anything easy about that."
"You want to know what's harder?" she whispered softly, resting her chin on his shoulder. "Admitting that you had no control. That this would have happened regardless of your actions. That you had no say in it."
Minerva paused, allowing her words to sink in. The tables had turned, and now it was her consoling him. The witch was more than happy to return the favour. She just hoped that he'd at least acknowledge what she's trying to say. Leaning away only far enough to meet his eyes, she lightly stroked his upper arm.
"Aberforth's wrong," Minerva stated with emphasis. "I'm really sorry this happened to you. It shouldn't have. And it wasn't your fault."
The way his lips curled down told her everything she had to know.
"Has nobody ever told you that?"
He slowly shook his head. "I've never told anyone."
"Oh, Albus… Why?"
"Because I – was afraid…"
Among the many things that Albus feared, at the front of his mind there were his friends' reactions. To his connections with Gellert and his anti-Muggle policy. To him once sharing the views of a man who would terrorize the entire continent. To his neglect of Ariana that would lead to her death. This was what he'd been ashamed of the most. Scared to be judged and abandoned – just like his father but for more justifiable reasons.
"Thank you for telling me," said Minerva with an encouraging smile.
Her expression was weak, and yet – when compared to the overall gloomy mood – it seemed to radiate around the room.
"It was easier with you," he admitted, gazing away for a brief moment. "You've already known about me and Gellert."
The witch paled. The confidence in his statement made her lose balance. She stumbled over the words.
"How did you – since when?"
"A long time ago."
"Why didn't you say anything?"
He sighed heavily, thinking back to the day of Minerva's first successful Animagus transformation. After their lesson, she came to his office to borrow some books for further studies. He got a private call, immediately went to take it. Forgetting that a letter from Nicolas was laying open on his desk. Curiosity got the better off her, as Henerick's portrait later told him.
"At first," Albus recalled, "you wouldn't even speak to me. I was afraid that my past would be too much for you to accept. To be fully honest, I anticipated a visit from Armando, who would have probably put me on probation."
Minerva's brows furrowed in indignant disbelief. It was her who was in the wrong; reading her teacher's private mail after he left the room. And yet, not only she didn't face any punishment but was expected to use what she learnt against him? What an absurd!
"And when we were on speaking terms again," Albus continued with equal kindness, "I was so relieved! I couldn't afford to ruin the chance you gave me. What a better way to do just that than accusing you of going through my things?"
Okay, she had to admit it. He was thinking way much ahead than she ever did. There was only one thing left to say.
"I'm sorry," she stated with evident regret. "I shouldn't have read your letter – nor start avoiding you right after. It was very immature of me."
"You were fourteen," Albus pointed out.
"So?"
Her genuine confusion, he found it endearing. The wizard chuckled in amusement and was happy to see that she joined him with a smile of her own.
"Sorry, but I need to get up," said Minerva, when shifting her position didn't help much. "My legs are killing me."
"Of course," he replied, recognizing that his friend probably hadn't anticipated to stay on the floor for this long. "Let me help you."
Only when they moved, had Albus realized that his arm had been around her back this entire time. He didn't even know when his hand landed on her side. Pretending like nothing happened, he quickly got to his feet, which caused tingling in his legs from knees down.
Ignoring the unpleasant sensation, he offered Minerva his hand and pulled her up. She muttered a quick thank you.
"Of all the places to go to," the wizard said, stretching out his numb limbs, "why did you choose this classroom?"
With an awkward smirk, she shrugged.
"Because I couldn't reach my room, not without breaking down in front of the students."
He found this coincidence peculiar but didn't get to share it with her. The next moment he knew, the witch stepped toward him, looking up straight into his eyes.
"I don't remember if I told you, but… Thank you, truly."
"Hm?" said Albus, transfixed. "What for?"
"For staying here with me, making me feel better." Slowly, she readjusted her hair, probably not used to wear it loose. "I know how busy you are."
"Actually, this evening was all yours," he replied with a meaningful wink. "No need to feel bad."
He watched her eyes widen in shock when she got his meaning.
"Oh God, Albus! Our tickets. I completely forgot!"
"Understandably so."
Minerva panicked, not nearly as understanding. She was so looking forward to seeing this match with him! Surely, he did, too.
"I want to make it up for you," she stated with conviction. "Next time we go out."
His expression softened when he beamed at her.
"That would be lovely."
Talking about their today's plans made him think about the food. His stomach growled, reminding Albus that all he ate was a light lunch. He took a quick glance at his watch. It was now past dinner time.
"I think I'll try to grab some leftovers," he said, pointing at the door. "Are you going for dinner?"
For a moment, Minerva considered joining him. On a second thought, entering a hall full of people didn't sound like a good idea.
"No, I don't feel like eating. I think I'll go straight home."
"Do you want me to walk with you?" he proposed.
"No, thank you," the witch kindly declined, suddenly wishing to be left alone. She just needed one more favor to ask. "But could you cast a Disillusionment Charm on me? I'm lousy at those."
"Of course."
Albus took out his wand, ready to go.
"Wait!" she nearly shouted, making him stop hid-move. With just as much urgency, she asked, "Can I… hug you goodbye?"
The wizard blinked, lowering his wand. To her relief, he quickly spread his arms, no questions asked.
"Come here," he muttered.
The witch stepped forward, closing him in a tight embrace. This unusual expression of affection was unexpected but not unwelcome. The wizard decided not to question it, instead putting his own arms around her. Knowing Minerva, it must have been ages since she hugged anyone. Even he'd already forgotten the warm, calming feeling provided by a proximity of another human being. He closed his eyes and let it fill him from the inside.
Before they parted, she surprised him once more – by putting her hands on his shoulders, standing on her toes, and kissing him on the cheek.
"Thank you," she whispered, a little awkward.
"Take care, Minerva," replied Albus in a low voice. "If you need anything, please don't hesitate to let me know."
Unexpectedly, she shook her head. "I wouldn't want to overuse your generosity."
Maybe it was the teacher in him, but he had to say it. And she definitely needed to hear it.
"I know you're a strong, independent woman. These are all great qualities, and yet… they make it way too easy for you to isolate yourself."
Minerva stared back at him, expressionless. Everything sounded too familiar for her to disagree. Albus went on.
"Please remember that it's never shameful to ask for help. The ability to be vulnerable with someone is a great strength, not a great weakness."
This was a lot for her to swallow. But she wasn't about to argue at the moment.
"Okay, I will," she said with her chin held high. A clever smirk graced her face when she added, "But only if this works both ways."
He got the message loud and clear. Having nodded his acceptance, Albus cast the charm. He held the door for her, and they parted ways.
Back in her empty chambers, alone with her thoughts, Minerva collapsed into her bed. But the sleep didn't come. Instead of dozing off after an exhausting day, she began to once again overthink her relationship with Dougal. She missed the man's proximity, the physical contact. As she hugged her pillow, all the most painful memories started coming back to her. The guilt after leaving Dougal without even speaking to him. The great times they had together but could no longer have. All the expectations she had for their future, for her life at his side. As she regretfully learnt, it was one thing to leave things hanging, unfinished. But learning that they could definitely never happen was another thing entirely.
Unable to calm down, she sobbed herself to sleep.