AN: Hi everyone! Firstly, I want to apologise because this is a truly massive chapter and is the largest chapter I have planned for this fic. I considered cutting it down but the conversation is important and I decided to keep it as it.

Please feel free to leave me a review or comment.

I hope that you enjoy this as much as I did writing it.

-MP-

Chapter Four: Portraits

Minerva was soon faced with the large wooden door that led the way to the once comforting place of Dumbledore's office. She shook her head at that thought, painfully aware that it was no longer Dumbledore's office even though deep down it always would be, at least to her.

She had arranged with the current headmaster Professor Flitwick, to visit the headmaster's office in private which as her long-time friend- he had gladly agreed to. It all seemed much simpler and straight forward then, a quick trip up to the gargoyle staircase and it would all be over. Yet, here she stood staring at the handle, her logical side trying to will herself to walk forward and open the door but her heart, her feelings, were refusing to cooperate. As if, intuitively her body was trying to protect her from harm, from the pain that lies within.

Of course, her emotional side was right in this case. It wasn't just his office, it wasn't just a place of stasis that held his things, their memories or little reminders that could stir up immense feelings. Like with every Hogwarts headmaster or headmistresses, this room would hold his portrait, a painful and lifelike reminder of what she had lost. She knew, that Dumbledore had been given a rather impressive portrait but had yet felt brave enough to face it. Rumours would fly about how life like it was supposed to be which Minerva thought was ridiculous because no imitation could ever compare to have Albus here in the flesh. His presence in her life could not be replicated.

Mustering all the courage she could summon she lifted her hand and enclosed it around the handle, cold and metal beneath her, she held tightly for a few seconds seriously considering abandoning the idea all together and racing back down to where Harry was waiting.

She shook her head again. This is silly Minerva. You can do this, show Harry that you can do this.

Swallowing hard she squeezed the doorknob, still not turning it to let herself in.

What if he hates me? What if he is angry at me?

Many thoughts raced through her mind, thoughts about how much she missed him, how she could have done more that night. Yes, she was protecting the students but she still should have been there to help him, to stop it happening.

I'm so sorry I wasn't there Albus.

She rocked back and forth on her heels, her hand remaining on the handle and with one final deep breath she betrayed herself, her screaming thoughts, crawling skin. Slowly, she turned the handle and pushed the large heavy wooden door open.

As soon as she crossed the threshold she was greeted with the smell of old books, parchment and the whirring sound of various objects. Portraits lined the walls high above the windows, most of them sleeping or busy with their own tasks. Some elements had changed, of course, Filius had made room for practical charms experiments and the shelves were lined with his own trinkets.

After a few shaky, steeling breaths. She moved towards the bookcase to the right of the desk and let her fingers trace along their spines. Instantly recognising that it wasn't Dumbledore's collection, letting her mind think back fondly to when she could pull volume after volume from the shelves and spend the evening silently opposite Dumbledore as they both read.

Already her eyes began to sting, but for this rare moment she wasn't going to try and hold them back. The pit of grief since he died she carried with her daily, aching and encompassing, the enormity of how much she missed him exposed fully for her to see, to feel.

Dropping her hands to her side she turned around to look at the desk, Filius had kept the same desk and chair that Dumbledore had designed, she secretly hoped it would be kept by all future tenants of this office too. She realised she was stood where Fawke's perch had once been, adoring his tall perch with his vibrant red feathers, standing faithfully by his side until the end. Until a long and painful lament would be sung.

The other side of the desk is where Dumbledore's portrait hung, she knew this, yet she struggled to make herself turn to look at it.

Minerva wrestled with many thoughts inside her head, scolding herself in her foolishness, knowing how silly it was to avoid looking at his portrait, as if looking at it made it real. There is a finality to the acceptance of his death, and if she greeted his portrait then there would be no going back on this. Dumbledore is dead. There would be no escaping this.

That is when she heard it.

His voice.

His voice.

Her whole body froze, completely rigid, in shock? Sadness? She didn't know.

"Minerva." The terribly, warm, familiar voice sounded from the other side of the room.

She turned herself around, nauseously relieved she couldn't see his face right away, but she could see a deep purple cloak with long fingers draped either side.

Then it hit her, she had crossed a boundary, he knew she was here and there was no use in walking away anymore. Not that she would walk, her whole body tingled and she wanted nothing more than to run out of that room and never look back. Yet, she moved closer towards the voice revealing the full portrait before her. A tall, beautifully painted portrait, with an ornate golden frame outlining it came into view. Large red and yellow feathers adorned the frame emanating from the proud phoenix which stood atop it, causing the first tears to break free and slowly trace her cheeks.

"Albus" She replied, whispered and weak.

Dumbledore's portrait surveyed her quietly, as if he was waiting for Minerva to break the silence. As if, even his portrait understood Minerva more than anybody else had before.

"Albus." She repeated, lifting her eyes to look at Dumbledore's face. It was just as she remembered, lined, thoughtful, with half-moon spectacles and those enchanting blue eyes which could pierce your soul.

Dumbledore smiled lightly, happy to just watch the woman before him. "Hello Minerva."

He paused thoughtfully for a moment, his expression giving nothing away. "It has been a long time."

"I know." She said, her voice ladened with guilt. "I'm sorry."

Dumbledore's brow furrowed curiously, his eyes grazing over her repeatedly, taking her in. "Why, would you be sorry Minerva?" The portrait answered calmly but assertively. Bringing her immediately back to their many shared conversations they had in this room, he had a knack for bringing her back to reality, to ground her. He was one of the very few people in this world she would permit to be present when she was upset, or in a crisis. One of the few she trusted.

"I have many things to be sorry for, Albus."

Her eyes focused on Albus's portrait, feeling confused at the beaming smile he was wearing and aiming towards her. Surely, he should be angry or upset.

Dumbledore sat in the chair in the corner of his portrait, a deep blue colour with silver stars adorning it. Very Albus Minerva thought light heartedly to herself before sinking back into the confusion he had confronted her with.

Albus gestured for to sit down whilst adopting his low and soothing voice, he had a calm and deliberate way of speaking even when mulling over long and complex thoughts. Choosing to reveal his ideas slowly and carefully, one after the other, letting the listener process and immerse themselves in his conversation. His hands rested on his lap, and his fingers resting in their typical arched fashion. She noticed they hadn't included his cursed hand in his portrait, which gave her a strange sense of comfort to know he was free of it. She glanced behind her using her wand to summoned a chair and she sat down slowly, eyes focused on Dumbledore throughout.

"Well…" Dumbledore opened his mouth to speak, leaning forward towards where Minerva sat.

"I must admit I do not know why you would need to apologise, and as I can no longer use legillimency to seek out your thoughts. I ask if you could share them willingly with my instead?"

A quick smile appeared and then fell from her face. His legillimency was perhaps one of the worst kept secrets between the couple. "I always knew when you did that."

Dumbledore also smiled. "You did?" He quipped, sounding almost playful.

"Your skills were a tad sloppy when it came to me."

He smiled even bigger then. "Ah yes! I guess I should have figured that one out for myself."

The pair shared a brief chuckle, until inevitably the room tumbled into silence again.

"Minerva, if I may, can I ask you a question or I daresay, two?" Dumbledore's expression seemed almost cheeky, flashing his twinkling blue eyes in her direction.

She felt shocked when he asked his, as the conversation was seeming almost too life like, making her think of their weekend banter or after meeting conversations. But now their conversation was confided to a portrait, a fixed barrier between them until her own time came to join him.

Sadly, she admitted to herself there were many occasions she had considered joining him of her own accord. It took an immense amount of bravery to battle against those thoughts, against herself, at times it felt like more than she could bare.

Minerva nodded in response, permitting Dumbledore to speak.

"Are you happy?" He asked, simply.

Her eyes grew wide as she stood up and stumbled backwards, anger rising in her quickly from her feet to her face. A raging anger flaring from somewhere deep within her.

"Happy?" She spat, not trying to conceal the rage shaking throughout her body.

"HAPPY!"

Minerva turned around finding herself unable to look at Dumbledore directly. She wasn't speaking, allowing her words to grow louder until her voice bellowed and echoed around the office.

"How on earth could I be happy?" She shouted.

"Why would I be?"

Dumbledore didn't respond as he stood up, his eyes watching her as she paced around and threw venomous words in his direction.

"HOW?"

"HOW COULD I BE HAPPY ALBUS?"

She threw her arms wildly in the air, physically shaking from her hot, searing anger that was tearing through her. Anger like she had never felt in her life, coursing thickly through every vein, throughout all of the years of tribulations and precarious situations. Never had she been consumed with such powerful rage.

Minerva withdrew her wand and pointed it towards the portrait, her arm still and unmoving. Dumbledore's portrait took an almost imperceptible step backwards in response.

She stepped forward again, her gaze entirely focused on those shining blue eyes.

"I DON'T WANT TO BE HAPPY ALBUS. NOT WHEN YOU AREN'T HERE."

Every word escaped her lips was heavy with emotion, then in the same second, as she finished her angry vitriol with her wand arm outstretched and aimed at Albus. A huge wave of guilt and sorrow swept in to take its place. She was pointing her wand at Dumbledore, and for the first time there was no wand pointing back at her.

They had many disagreements, hours lost in their own entanglement of words as their intelligence and wits battled fiercely. Many times, wands were drawn in moments of passion but they never hurt each other. Never spat mindless curses in each other's direction because once a wand had been drawn, that would be the end, a stalemate between two opponents. A signal that the argument was over.

Dumbledore watched as her wand arm fell limply beside her, tears soaking her face and his own making an appearance also.

He struggled for words, wanting nothing more than to reach out and comfort her but frustratingly unable to behind the canvas prison he was to be immortalised in.

"Sorry Minerva, I can no longer engage in our usual method of conflict resolution." His murmured sadly, still calm and even, but sad nonetheless.

"I know." She said, almost despondent in return.

"I do want you to be happy though, Minerva."

She looked up to search for his sapphire eyes, remembering all the times she lost herself in them. Waking up to them with an arm wrapped around her, losing her fingers between his long and elegant ones.

"I'm not." She breathed. Dumbledore's face demonstrating a brief instance of grief before returning a thin smile.

"Well, do you think we could explore why? For I have missed our long and winding conversations. Please, don't tell Filius this but he doesn't make much of a conversationalist. At the very least, doesn't hold a candle to yourself."

"Okay." She said, tucking her wand back into her robes and sitting back down on her chair.

"Is it okay, if I ask another question now?"

She nodded in reply, bracing herself for what he was going to ask next.

"You don't have to answer them, or even answer them honestly. As it has been such a long time since we last spoke. I will not ask too much of you, I have no right."

Minerva shook her head. "No Albus, I owe you as many answers as I can give."

Dumbledore paused thoughtfully, and with a heavy sigh returned to his own blue chair before continuing the conversation.

"Well then. Firstly, as you were my successor that meant you were Hogwarts headmistress, yet I never saw you here." He gestured to the empty chair and desk nearby.

She sighed, this was a question she understood perfectly.

"With a deep inhale, she replied. "I couldn't face you." Attempting to sound as stern and emotionless as possible. Even if she would undoubtedly betray herself.

"Ah." The portrait responded, nodding understandably. "I thought it would be something of the such. Luckily, I prepared in advance."

His last sentence confused her slightly, what did he mean to prepare in advance? She ruminated on many racing thoughts ignoring the responses from Dumbledore in the background, eventually dawning on her that before he passed. Albus had taught his portrait how to comfort her, leaving her feeling both warmed and guilty. A horrible seesaw between feeling happy that Albus thought of her and guilty that he spent his last days worrying about her rather than himself. Tears formed in her eyes again, and more longing tugged on her chest.

Dumbledore's voice penetrated her conscience again rousing her to discussion he was having.

"Obviously I have been informed of the true manner of my death and what happened that night on the astronomy tower. Severus himself spoke in length about the events that took place."

Minerva's gaze fell to her lap, another pang of guilt forming in her stomach.

"So what I need to impart upon you Minerva. Is that you are not, in any way, responsible for what happened that night. There is nothing you could have done."

Despite his calm and even demeanour. She still felt the flickers of anger inside her, perhaps more aimed toward herself than Albus. She squeezed the arms of the chair tightly, steeling her green eyes into Albus's.

"I should have been there to help you!" She countered, trying desperately to prevent herself from shouting again.

"You were protecting the students. Which is exactly what I would have wanted you to do."

She slumped into the back of her chair knowing instinctively that he was right.

"My third question is going to be frustratingly vague as I have limited information from Filius to draw from. But I find myself very much in need of knowing. Minerva, how did it all end? Did we succeed?"

Minerva nodded before speaking. "Harry was incredible and you would have been so proud of him. He did more than anyone could have asked for."

Dumbledore nodded too. "Oh Harry. Such a brave, brave man." Albus then began to shake his head slowly, Minerva observing this as it was very uncharacteristic of him to openly express his emotions. "Harry…" the portrait continued to mumble.

Minerva stood and stepped closer to the painting whispering Albus's name as she did so, his eyes darting to her in response. "What you asked of him Albus, it was hard for all of us to understand, he carried the weight of that burden with him and he still does. He was so young Albus, but he did it, without question. I won't go into it much further as it is not my story to tell, but what I can say is that being proud of him doesn't remotely measure what he did, for all of us."

She watched his face, noticing the pain they lay behind those sparkling blue eyes as they exchanged words about Harry. Wishing he was here to comfort him, to make that pain disappear because it hurt her knowing that even if this portrait was only a shadow of him. She couldn't bear that shadow being in pain for his whole existence.

"My last question." Dumbledore's voice interrupted. Bringing her thoughts back to the present, steadying herself for his last question.

"Have you found someone else? Someone to share your life with?"

It was then she felt her heart shatter into a thousand pieces, cascading to the floor and shattering again unashamedly. Tears flowed freely down her face, because Dumbledore would never know what it is like to live without the other. There was no simple replacement for their bond.

"No Albus. I have not." She whispered, a mixture of sorrow and mournfulness etched across her face.

"Min." He whispered, as he watched the elderly witch before him appear listless and so unlike herself.

"Please don't push your future happiness away for me."

She didn't feel angry this time, nor shock, even in her grief stricken state she knew he was ultimately right. Even if the notion of moving on from him completely horrified her.

"Albus, I am glad you will never have to understand what I feel right now. To know what it is like to leave the other one behind. I can't envision myself with somebody else because all of my happy memories are tied to you, even the simplest of activities like a chess game on a Sunday afternoon. Because, our life, even if secret, brought me more joy and happiness than I could have ever imagined."

It was Dumbledore's turn to revert to silence who stared fondly in her direction as she continued.

"Every damn moment of my life always seems to wind its way back to you."

She rubbed her temple letting her fingers trace her cheek much like Albus would have done for her in the past.

"I have memories of you barging their way in my mind all of the time!" Her voice grew sterner, finding its footing in her confidence.

"I think about the times you would take parchment from my hand and gently brush my thumb as you pulled away. A secret wink as we passed in the corridor. Weekends cloistered in your private quarters whilst we mustered the strongest privacy charms we could."

More and more tears raced down her face like a river, soaking her face and her clothes as quickly as they fell. She didn't try to hide them or wipe them away. Letting them boldly display across her clothing as openly as she spilled all of their private moments between them.

"Finding reasons to visit me, or when meetings ended in your office and when others would walk away you would grab my hand to steal a kiss before we parted ways. Or the cold nights on the astronomy tower as I snuggled against you whilst you described the various stars and planets that fascinated you."

"Then it changed to war planning, and secrets, lessons with Harry you wouldn't tell me anything about. Pushing me away for time with Severus. I wrestled with trying to find out why, even helping the order so I could remain by your side."

Her words were not falling from her nicely, not in her usual put together way but instead racked with sobs as she poured all of her feelings that were so tightly locked away for many, many years.

"Then somehow a distance grew between us, all the way up to that very night." Her voice started to tinge with bitterness, but she pressed on, pushing her words out with all the force she had. "Regardless, my loyalty to you never wavered! It still hasn't. But still, when I found out about your passing all I wanted to do was go back into your office and selfishly steal a kiss again, to feel you against me, one last time."

"But most painfully, I had to listen to everybody talk about your death as just a loss to the wizarding world, as if your existence was only measured in your worth to the world. I couldn't tell anybody what it really meant to me because us was and will forever be a secret. I couldn't reason to anyone why my grief was so massive and unrelenting, because I wasn't just mourning for the world, I was morning for man that I loved. A man I loved with every fibre of my being, I adored everything about him and I would have given anything to be just lost in him again."

She looked up to Dumbledore, his portrait to her surprise had begun to cry too.

"The knowledge that I would never be able to do any of those things again. Is what prevented me from coming here, from finding anybody else. As that person could never compare."

He nodded gently, leaving her to wonder how much his portrait knew of their relationship and what emotions he was aware of, or was experiencing now.

"Minerva. I may just be a portrait but that doesn't mean I am not aware of our relationship. It is the one thing we discussed above anything else."

She felt her breath hitch in her chest at his words. "Really?" she found herself saying, the silly expression tumbling out of her mouth like a smitten teenager.

"Yes." Albus said, a smile creeping back onto his face. "I spent more time discussing my love for you than anything else, describing at length how having you improved my life, my being, immensely. The thought of not having you my side, was inconceivable."

He desperately wanted to reach his hand beyond the canvas, to touch her and pull her closer, finding himself frustratingly trapped in his current form. "Towards the end, Minerva, the gap that grew between us was greatly painful. I am ashamed to admit that I didn't pursue the chance to fix it enough. Selfishly chasing the end of Riddle regardless of the cost to those close to me."

The pair let silence envelop them for a few moments, until Minerva's voice cut through the quiet of the office. "Did he discuss anything else with you?" She asked.

"I do know of a few of the rather cheekier memories we share." Her eyebrow arched quizzically. "Cheekier?" She couldn't help herself but ask.

"For example, the evening after your first NEWT results where a rather enthusiastic evening was spent on that desk over there."

She glanced over towards the desk blushing furiously, they were a much newer and younger couple. She was celebrating jubilantly about her fantastic set of results, when Albus strode close to her and pulled her into a deep and passionate kiss, feeling his full weight against her as a moan escaped her lips. An encounter that would culminate in him flicking his wand to clear the desk quickly as he lifted her up and lay her against it as he took her.

Dumbledore laughed at Minerva's flushed expression. "I take it, you remember that too?"

She chuckled lightly and nodded her head. "I can't believe he told you that."

He shrugged. "It must have been very meaningful."

Their laughs dissipated quickly, and Minerva gave herself a moment to mull over her thoughts.

"Albus. Before I stepped into this office tonight I was terrified, but now I am here, and we have spoken. I had told myself that seeing you would make me feel worse, but instead I find myself glad to have come here tonight."

Dumbledore's smile fell from his face understanding the end of their conversation was drawing rapidly near. "It has been my pleasure, as always, Minerva."

She took a final step as close to the portrait as she could get whilst still able to see him. "I have to go soon. Harry is waiting for me."

"Harry." Dumbledore responded, his words sounding heavy now.

"He's okay." She replied quickly, understanding the thickness in his voice and wanting to offer comfort as he had done for her.

Dumbledore gazed into her eyes. "Okay." He repeated, as calm as he was at the beginning of their exchange.

She raised her hand to place it against his painted chest. Desperately wishing she felt warmth beneath them, that those blue eyes could really search and comfort her. As glad as she was to speak with his portrait, it was more evident than ever that even the greatest portrait in the world would be a pale imitation of the man she adored. Yet, she was glad to have this fleeting version of him, to spend an evening talking to him again even if her heart ached more openly than it had ever done so before.

"I miss you." She whispered, her forehead falling onto his chest as she spoke. The canvas cold and hard beneath her skin.

Minerva took a step back, and turned around to head toward the office door. The final words echoing from the back of the room, the last words herself and his portrait would exchange. Words that would make her miss him more than she thought possible, even though she spent her days feeling hollow, it seemed the chasm had grown suddenly wider, more cavernous without him. Yet, those final words would prove that she had no understanding of real emptiness, not until now.

His calm and warm tones washed over her. She was sure, even though he was just a portrait, that she could hear grief in his voice that sounded just as clear and sharp as her own.

A sorrowful mirror. Echoing her own.

"I love you."

With that she raced out of the room and flew through the door to meet Harry who was waiting below. Crying unabashedly, loud and painful sobs as she stepped off the garygoyle staircase and took Harry's hand to rush the pair back to her office.

Before Harry had even had a chance to speak, her door was open and privacy charms cast and she fell into his arms. Her body was overtaken by her tears. Harry held her against him, listening to her howls as she sobbed into his chest. The sounds coming from her illuminating the sheer pain she was in, like a wounded dog, a sound so haunting and foreign, but perhaps more so when coming from Minerva.

-MP-