2nd September 1996

The last few students filed out of the room and finally, Minerva allowed her guard to slip. With a wince, she slowly lowered herself into her chair and removed her glasses to rub her eyes. Her chest was tingling slightly, and she had somewhat of a headache.

Not for the first time, she cursed the predicament that she found herself in. One of the things she enjoyed the most was teaching. Not simply because she loved being a teacher, but, and recently in particular, she enjoyed the fact that the Order, the war and Voldemort, did not come anywhere near her classroom. In class, everything was about Transfiguration and helping students excel in her subject. Yet now, as a result of her injury last year, the war, the Ministry, and politics had somehow bled into the small safe bubble she had managed to create.

It made her angry, but more importantly, it made her sad. And, not for the first time, Minerva wished that things were different. Then, quite suddenly, the pragmatic side got the better of her. She took another deep breath and shook herself - enough wishful thinking. She had another class to teach and wallowing in self-pity was not going to help her prepare her classroom, she reprimanded herself.

Minerva put her frames back on and only when she did so did she notice somebody had entered the room.

"Did you know that it is common courtesy to knock," she said accusingly, clearing her throat and shuffling some papers.

"My apologies, my dear," said Dumbledore, coming into the room. "I only wished to return this book to you."

He placed the novel on her desk and Minerva recognised it to be the one he had borrowed from her almost a year ago. It had been so long now that she had forgotten that Albus had not already returned it to her.

"Hmph," she said, giving him a knowing look. "You only remembered to bring it back to me now, in the middle of the day?"

"I am afraid so," he replied.

Minerva raised her eyebrow at him, however, he merely shrugged innocently.

"May I sit?"

"I don't have any more of those sherbert lemons, Albus," Minerva said in a clipped tone, as he sat down. "And I am in no mood for a lecture today," she added, knowing exactly why he had come.

"I am not here to lecture you, my dear," he replied.

"Is that so?"

"Certainly," he said, folding his legs and looking at her carefully. "I merely came to ask how you were?"

"I am perfectly all right, Albus," Minerva said, a little shortly. She tried her best to rearrange her features so that they were not reflecting her emotions as much. A fruitless attempt, however, as Albus was able to read her like a book. Minerva put it down to the strange gift he had at seeing straight through people, or to the fact that he had known her for so long. Either way, she did not appreciate it at this very moment. So, she decided to look away.

"How was your class?"

"It was fine," Minerva replied, putting some parchment into a folder and placing it in a desk drawer which she then closed rather abruptly. "I promise if I am finding teaching too strenuous I will let you know," she added, with a hint of anger that was largely masking hurt.

"Minerva, I am not here to comment on your teaching," Albus began with a sigh. "No one could fault you when observing your methods."

"Good," she said. "I am glad I have met the appropriate standards."

Dumbledore sighed, seeming genuinely sad, and for a moment Minerva felt bad for being so tetchy. It wasn't really Albus she was annoyed at, after all. Merely how her body seemed to be betraying her recently. It was infuriating. Also, after only just making up after their argument, Minerva did not want to start another one.

"I'm sorry," she said finally, sighing this time. "Clearly I am not in one of my best moods."

She looked up and tried a smile which he returned. Yet, he did not completely fall into the trap of her attempt at levity. Something which Minerva had been expecting.

"How are you coping, my dear?" he asked again, though gentler this time.

"Beautifully," she replied. "I am managing just fine, Albus," she added, more seriously now. "I am experiencing nothing more than I can handle. And if I did need help, or if I was not managing quite as well as I should, you would be the first to know. "

"Will you promise?"

She sighed, a looked away briefly, before turning her attention back to him. "I don't want to argue again, Albus," she said. "So, I will make that promise. But only if you promise the same thing," she added. "I know you will probably never tell me what has happened to your hand, Albus," she said, already waving away his protests with her own hands. "I might be able to accept that," she added. "But I can see how it is affecting you, and I believe I really can only see the surface."

Albus didn't say anything and Minerva smiled, though sadly.

"What a pair we make," she murmured, before shaking herself. "Look, Albus, it is the first day of class. It caught me a bit by surprise," she added, truthfully. "And while I appreciate your concern, I am in no way hurt or incapable of carrying out my appointed duties. If ever there was a problem I would come to you. I would very much prefer if it were not the other way around."

She looked at him pointedly and he nodded.

"I understand, Minerva. Please excuse me if I have overstepped the boundary."

Minerva smiled. "You are excused," she said. "I am touched, really. Though if you ask again I may not be so kind."

Albus smiled too and nodded. "Noted."

"Good," she said, pushing herself up from her seat and turning to wipe the board. "Now, I have a class so I shall see you later."

"For a game of chess?"

"I meant for dinner," she said, "but all right, then," she said finally. "I won't play nice though."

"I would not want you to."

Minerva turned back to the board and smiled. And just as Dumbledore stepped into the fire and disappeared in green flames slowly the next lot of students began to filter into her classroom.