The Comedy of Errors

The Comedy of Errors

Disclaimer: see Chapter 1

Chapter 14: The confession


A tender hand stroked the hair away from her neck while an arm encircled her waist and pulled her against a warm, firm body. Then a soft mouth glided over her shoulder and nibbled at her neck.

Minerva didn’t open her eyes, but caught the hand which was just sliding up from her belly to her breast. Entwining her fingers with his, she murmured sleepily, “Albus - what time is it?”

“Good morning, Darling.” He nuzzled at the side of her neck. “Where were you yesterday evening? I missed you and I wanted to …”

While he was speaking Minerva opened her eyes and looked at the clock on her nightstand. She almost jumped out of the bed. “Albus! It’s ten after nine! We’ve slept in - and how!” With one quick move she was out of the bed and storming in the direction of the bathroom. “Oh heavens - we couldn’t have found a worse day to sleep in! The Hogwarts Express is due at ten o’clock! And if I know our fellow witches and wizards, a few of them will appear even sooner!” She turned and looked at the bed where her husband had closed his eyes again while hugging her pillow. Minerva shook her head. “Albus, really! You have to be in the hall - shaved, washed, dressed and at your best - in only fifty minutes!”

“But I’m tired!” he grumbled. “And I didn’t even get a good morning kiss!”

“Don’t be such a baby, Albus!” Minerva said severely. “This Parents’ Day was your idea - so out of bed with you!”

He rolled to the bedside and sat up, scratching his belly. “Last year you admitted it was fun,” he grumbled sulkily.

Minerva shook her head again, opened the door to the bathroom and announced over her shoulder, “I’m going to have a shower. And afterwards I’ll go down. I need at least a cup of tea before the fun starts.”

As she entered the shower, Minerva couldn’t help smiling. Sometimes Albus really was worse than a baby, but although she had to nag at him almost every morning to get him out of bed - she didn’t want him to change one iota. Of course - his lack of punctuality sometimes drove her mad. And that he only needed five minutes to make a neatly cleaned room a complete mess, leaving a trail of his things - starting with his cloak, robes, shoes, socks over his papers and empty sherbet lemon bags to letters, notes, phoenix treats, spare spectacles and whatever else he usually carried with him all over the floor and the furniture - sometimes even drove her to yell at him. But as quickly as he was able to make her furious, he could make her forgive him everything. He only needed to smile his boyish smile and her heart melted away. And his touches still made her knees turn to jelly, and an entire army of butterflies perform flying exercises in her stomach.

Sometimes it seemed almost unbelievable to her that it was only seventeen months since she’d become Minerva McGonagall-Dumbledore. Albus, impatient as always in such matters, hadn’t wanted a long engagement and Minerva, who’d never liked having a fuss made over her, hadn’t wanted a big wedding. They’d agreed that they wanted to marry where they both felt at home. So they decided upon the second weekend in January to invite their closest friends to Hogwarts. Harry Potter, who led Minerva down the aisle, had joked that the small ceremony would be something like a dress rehearsal because only one week later Hogwarts hosted a big wedding. Hermione Granger had become Hermione Snape - and Albus maintained that Minerva cried more at the Snape wedding than her own. She denied it, but one thing she did admit - she had enjoyed the Snape wedding no less than her own. It had been the first time she’d appeared as Madame Dumbledore in society and although Minerva didn’t like public displays of intimacy - she very much enjoyed being able to smile openly at her husband and to touch him without any constraints.

Two weeks later the students had come back. After welcoming them, Albus had smiled and said, “I have an announcement to make. From now on you’re allowed to talk openly about the relationship between Professor McGonagall and me while I’m allowed,” he bent down and gave Minerva a peck on the cheek, “to kiss her openly. I’m only afraid it will become boring - the talking I mean. The kissing certainly never will - because Professor McGonagall is, as of a few days ago, Minerva McGonagall-Dumbledore and my lawfully wedded wife.”

Most of the students had probably already known about it - the “Daily Prophet” had printed an article about the wedding - but they loudly cheered and applauded nevertheless. The next day Minerva had been showered with cards, flowers and gifts by all of her classes. And for a few weeks her Gryffindors addressed her as “Professor McGonagall-Dumbledore”. But the excitement quickly died down. The students had noticed that the marriage between the Headmaster and his Deputy hadn’t changed the way they were treated. Minerva was still a strict teacher who didn’t stand for any nonsense in class, and the students still got a lot of homework from her.

Admittedly, the students maintained that Minerva smiled more often and some of the girls even said that she and Albus made a “cute couple”.

A happy one they were in any case. Minerva would never have thought it, but her unpredictable husband was actually quite easy to live with. He needed his freedom, but Minerva had never believed in marriage as something that should make the participants act as if they were Siamese twins. She certainly didn’t mind that her husband sometimes wanted to have some time on his own. She actually rather liked it because it gave her some space as well. She enjoyed sometimes having free time to read or to have a “girls’ talk” with Poppy or Hermione, who now lived with Severus and was working on her thesis. Minerva didn’t even mind that Albus still liked to flirt. When Molly Weasley - who’d probably have hexed her husband into the next week if he dared look at another woman - once asked Minerva about it, she laughed out loud and answered, “Albus has so much charm I can easily share some of it.”

Besides, she was so beloved! Although Albus still didn’t say it in words - there hadn’t been one day in their marriage that he hadn’t done something that made her feel spoiled. Even when he had to go away for a few days he always made sure to show her his affection on a daily basis. Sometimes it was small things - like an owl bringing her a single rose, or a note appearing magically on her pillow saying, “Thirty-six hours left - I’m so looking forward to holding you in my arms again.”

And he was still an eager lover. Minerva sometimes wondered how he managed to deal with the school and all his other obligations without feeling completely groggy and drained in the evenings. She was eighty years his junior, nevertheless it was mostly she who fell into bed like a stone. Yet even when she was dog tired she liked to cuddle before falling asleep.

But cuddling with Albus - no, it wasn’t really a problem. She actually found it flattering that Albus’ body reacted to her so strongly. Most of the time, snuggling against him was enough to cause him at least half an erection.

The first time it happened on a night Minerva was too tired for more than a little tenderness, she immediately moved away from him, murmuring, “I’m sorry, Darling.”

Albus had pulled her back into his arms. Looking into her eyes he said, “Minerva, you shouldn’t feel sorry for being so desirable that I can hardly get close to you without my body reacting.”

“I’m not sorry about that, Albus,” she’d explained. “But sorry that I’m so tired. I don’t want you to get frustrated.”

“Minerva, I’m not going to get frustrated when you’re too tired to sleep with me once in a while. Getting an erection doesn’t mean I immediately want to have sex with you.” Kissing the tip of her nose he’d smiled. “Let’s make a deal, shall we? When you’re not interested in sex, you simply ignore my erections. So will I, and thus they’ll go away.”

Since then Minerva had relaxed, now even teasing him sometimes about being “a sexual maniac”. And three days ago, when he’d come down from his office for a kiss between classes, Minerva couldn’t resist. She fondled his privates through his robes, asking, “Can you keep that up until I’m done with my third years? You know I’ve got a free hour then …”

He pulled her close, laughing. “But people don’t do it in broad daylight, Minerva!”

“Well - if you don’t want to, I’ll grade essays during that time,” she shot back.

“Don’t you dare! You’ll appear in our bedroom for your marital duty!” he grinned.

She’d felt wonderfully naughty as she walked up to the Main tower two hours later, and it had been hard not to grin at the students she met on her way. They would probably have fainted if they knew that their always professional, cool Transfiguration teacher was for once not thinking about her next class or school business, but about sleeping with her husband - in broad daylight and not caring in the least about the essays piled on her desk and the paperwork waiting on his.


“Minerva - I can’t find my spectacles! Do you know where I put them?” Albus’ desperate voice sounded from the bedroom.

Minerva rolled her eyes, cast a drying charm, slipped on her robe and, brushing her hair, looked into the bedroom. “You know, most people have a place where they put their spectacles down during the night,” she said.

“So have I,” he grumbled. “Only my spectacles aren’t in my sock drawer.”

“You keep your glasses in your sock drawer?” Minerva’s voice was a bit muffled because she was holding a few of her hairpins between her lips.

“It’s a good place!” Albus defended his choice. “Soft, with no one trampling through, and in the mornings I find them easily when I’m going to get socks.”

Minerva was just putting her hair in its customary bun. Nevertheless she managed to sound sarcastic, “Of course, Albus. Sock drawers are ideal places for spectacles. Only yours aren’t in there now.”

“No,” he said sadly. “And you don’t know where they are,” he added, disappointed.

Minerva was finished with her hairdo. Shaking her head she asked, “Have I missed something? Until now I thought I was married to a wizard.” Sweetly she proceeded, “The spell is ‘Accio’, Albus - it’s on the Second year charms syllabus, you know.”

“I know. But I don’t have my wand. It’s probably in the drawer of my desk down in the office,” he explained.

Minerva reminded herself to exercise patience. Taking a deep breath she asked, “Since when do you need a wand for a spell as simple as ‘Accio’?”

“Well, for wandless magic I have to concentrate. But I can’t concentrate without my glasses. Besides …”

Minerva looked over to the clock on her nightstand. It was now 9:25 and she really, really wanted to have at least a cup of tea and a slice of toast before the parents appeared. So she pulled her wand out, waved and called, “Accio Albus’ spectacles!”

The effort was much more dramatic than she’d expected. From Albus’ nightstand came a rumble, followed by Albus doing a tiger jump to catch not only his spectacles, which were sailing through the air, but the papers, books, sherbet lemon bags, quill and an ink bottle which were heading for the rug. But he wasn’t quick enough. The spectacles hit his forehead and the ink bottle crashed onto the floor, spreading its contents over the papers, the rug and Albus’ bare feet.

Minerva smelled sherbet lemons and, looking down at the rainbow coloured ink on Albus’ feet, she sighed, “Sherbet lemon scented rainbow ink? And what was it doing on your nightstand?”

Albus bent down and picked a piece of parchment out of the mess. It was dripping with ink. “While I was waiting for you last night, I wrote the speech I’m supposed to give today.”

“But you never read your speeches!” Minerva exclaimed.

“Well - you’re right. But I feel better when I have notes for them in my pocket,” he explained, looking at the paper in his hand. “And now I can’t read it any longer!”

Minerva looked up at the ceiling, wringing her hands. “Insanity, your name is Albus Dumbledore!” With one hand carefully lifting her skirt, she stepped through the mess to where he stood, healing the scrape on his forehead. “And now do me a favour, Albus, get yourself ready! I really don’t want to explain to the Governors and Ministers that my dear husband couldn’t make it in time because his spectacles weren’t in his sock drawer.” Moving around the bed she sat down on her side, ordering her shoes to her and slipping into them.

“No kiss, but nagging and ranting,” Albus grumbled on his way into the bathroom. “I hope the day won’t proceed in the style in which it began.”

Counting slowly to ten - her mother had once advised her to always do so before she hexed someone - Minerva stood up and called in the direction of the bathroom, “I’m going down, Albus. I need at least a little breakfast before disaster breaks down upon us.”

Concentrating on the staff room, she murmured an Apparition spell, glad that Albus had for this day dropped the wards in the castle. Landing in the staff room, she saw Herbology witch Dee Sprout just pouring coffee in a mug.

“Dee - you’re my saviour! Can I have a coffee too?” Minerva asked.

Dee Sprout handed her the mug and filled another one, looking worriedly at Minerva as she said, “You’ll keep in mind that the crowd shouldn’t trample through greenhouse four? My mandrakes are pretty sensitive at the moment. I don’t think they’d react well to visitors and noise.”

“Perhaps you should have given them your famous earmuffs!” Stella Sinistra mumbled. She leaned on the wall next to the window, a bowl of porridge in her hand. “Oh, by the way, Minerva, I’ve thought about the little Astronomy demonstration in my tower. It would work better if we do it a bit later - around four.”

Minerva gulped her coffee down and shook her head. “Sorry, Stella, but we should stick to our agenda. Besides, the Muggle parents will have to board the train around four-thirty.”

“And if we’re able to kick the wizards out around that time too, I’ll be a happy man,” snarled Severus Snape. “I really don’t like …”

He couldn’t finish his line because there was a knock on the door, followed by a few Slytherins barging into the staff room. They held one of their housemates or, to be precise, his torso and head.

“Professor Snape! Algernon splinched himself!” one of the students cried.

Minerva put her mug down and looked at the splinched student. “Where are your limbs, Mister Zabini?” she asked sharply.

“In our common room!” the boy stammered. “Roberts and Botsby have already gone down to get them.”

“Well,” Minerva looked at the boys holding their house mate. “Put Mister Zabini on the table. We’ll have to wait until your friends arrive with his limbs.”

Just at that moment the two students in question stormed into the staff room, breathless, carrying the legs and arms of their fellow Slytherin.

Severus took the legs - one of which was twitching - and put them in the right position on the table while Minerva laid the arms where they belonged. Pulling her wand out, she cast a spell to attach the lost limbs to the student’s body, then looked at the boy as he sat there, moving his arms and legs. “Twenty points from Slytherin,” Minerva said sternly. “And on Monday at eight o’clock you will appear in Mister Filch’s office for detention. And …,” she let her gaze wander over the students who’d gathered in the open doorway, “… the next one who tries Apparating will get detention until doomsday!”

“Plop!” Minerva whirled around as she heard the characteristic sound of another Apparition. Behind her stood her husband, his eyes twinkling. The students laughed and Severus, his voice dripping with sarcasm, asked, “Minerva - does being married to you already count as detention until doomsday?”

Before Minerva could snap at him, she felt Albus hand briefly squeeze her shoulder. He smiled at his Potions Master, “One thing is certain, your wife didn’t marry you for your charm.” He turned to the students and waved his hands, “Please, close the door - from the outside!” Looking at his staff, he asked, “Everyone ready for the big day?”

Valeria Vector was just fastening her cloak. “I’m already on my way to collect the Muggles at the station.”

“And I’m doing another uniform check on my charges,” Severus was on his way to the door too. “Oh, by the way, Minerva, you should perhaps look at your Gryffindors before you let them loose on their parents. Your first years were throwing eggs at each other during breakfast. I took twenty-five points away, but wasn’t quick enough. A few of them got some egg on their robes and ties.” The Potions Master swept out of the staff room.

Dee Sprout rolled her eyes, “Overgrown bat!”

Minerva put her coffee mug down and looked longingly at the buffet with breakfast. But she didn’t have time to eat something - she had to make her Gryffindors presentable.

“Minerva, I’ll look after your charges. Just sit down and have something to eat,” Albus offered.

“You haven’t had breakfast yourself. Besides, you’ll have to welcome our guests,” Minerva answered and moved toward the door.

There was another knock. Minerva opened the door to reveal a mousy blonde with the Ravenclaw crest and a prefect badge on her bony chest. “What is it, Miss Edwins?”

“Professor Flitwick sent me to get the Headmaster. Minister Weasley and his wife just arrived,” the girl announced pompously.

“Thank you, Miss Edwins,” Albus was already on his way. “Until later, my dear.”

Minerva smiled back - even in situations like that a smile from him was enough to make her feel warmer - and concentrated, Apparating to the antechamber behind the Great Hall. Because Gryffindor tower was furthest from the entrance to the castle, she’d ordered her charges to gather in the Great Hall. Entering it through the teacher’s door, she couldn’t help smiling. The evening before, Albus and Filius had removed the wall between the hall and the rooms next to it, making room not only for the students, but their parents to sit down at one of the big round tables they’d conjured.

But now, in the huge hall, her Gryffindors, standing around one of the tables, looked almost lost. Yet once more they were displaying the qualities for which Minerva appreciated them so much. The older students had already cleaned up the first years, two sixth year girls were just straightening the ties of two younger boys; a seventh year boy had a comb in his hand and was working on a first year, and two older girls knelt down to comfort a sad first year - obviously one whose parents couldn’t make it.

Minerva stepped down to them and clapped her hands to get their attention. “Good morning,” she said in her clear voice. “I hope you are all well. Your parents should arrive in the next few minutes. As you know you have two hours to show them around. At twelve o’clock we’ll meet here for lunch - and I expect you to be punctual. After lunch we’ll have our Transfiguration demonstration at one-thirty in the cloister. I expect the students participating at one-fifteen in front of the staff room. If one of you needs me before then, you’ll find me in the cloister. Any questions?”

A fourth year raised her hand, “My mother wants to see the greenhouses, being an Herbologist herself. When will Professor Sprout give her tour?”

“Do you have a problem reading, Miss Johns?” Minerva asked. “As far as I recall all the tour and demonstration times are on the schedule in the Entrance Hall. Anything else?”

No one had any further questions, so Minerva smiled at them once again. “Well then - have fun!”

This time she didn’t Apparate, but slipped through the teacher’s door and used a small side staircase which led directly down to the staff room. Taking a deep breath, she entered the cloister from there. The previous day she, Filius, and their classes had worked there. Minerva’s Seventh years had transformed desks from an unused classroom to bistro tables. The benches had become chairs; from the curtains in the classroom she’d made pillows with nice red and gold stripes. The Sixth years had then created the sunshades by transforming a collection of old umbrellas found in the caretaker’s stores. Tablecloths, napkins, glasses and cups had been the work of the Fourth years and while they bewitched them, Filius and his students had cast a shielding charm over the entire cloister. In Scotland, one could never know when the weather would change, so the shielding charm would probably be necessary to keep the cloister and the guests in it dry.

Entering the centre of Hogwarts, which was already very crowded and noisy, Minerva found that they’d done a good job. The cloister looked like a garden restaurant and the little bar at which the Hufflepuff Fifth years served lemonade, herbal teas, and fruit cocktails was surrounded by guests.

Albus was easy to find in the crowd - not only because he was one of the tallest men in the cloister, but because he was dressed in a silver-blue robe which accented his long hair and made it shine even more. He stood only a few steps away from Minerva, deep in conversation with his old friend, Minister of Magic Arthur Weasley, and the Minister of Education Thomas Hawnby. As always when he was listening intently, his head was slightly cocked and his eyes were half-closed in concentration.

Watching him for a moment Minerva had to suppress a broad smile. This handsome man - and he really looked like the very model of a wizard - was hers! In only a few hours she would have him to herself again and his blue eyes would smile at her and she would kiss his generous mouth and his always slightly hoarse voice would whisper tender words …

“Minerva!” A warm, round hand landed on her arm and, looking down, Minerva saw a red head with a few grey strands in it and a pair of warm hazel eyes.

“Molly!” Minerva hugged her old friend and fellow Order member Molly Weasley. “How nice of you to come!”

“Even if we don’t have any children here anymore, I wouldn’t have missed Parents’ Day at Hogwarts,” Molly Weasley beamed. Studying Minerva’s face her smile grew broader. “Marriage becomes you, Minerva. You look great.”

“Thank you. You’re looking nice yourself today,” Minerva paid the compliment back.

“I’m happy, Minerva. I just learned this morning that we’ll be grandparents soon,” Molly said. “Fleur and Bill are expecting their first.”

“How wonderful!” Minerva smiled although she felt the familiar hitch. Once she’d wished so much to have a child of her own. But she only had her students - and a very attentive husband who, accompanied by Arthur Weasley and Thomas Hawnby, approached her now, laying his hand between her shoulder blades. “Dear, Thomas was just saying that you look very lovely today. He’s right, I think.”

The Minister of Education took Minerva’s hand and bowed over it. “Albus is a lucky man - but I think he knows it. You should hear him when we’re talking with each other. He’s always full of praise for you.”

“Thank you, Minister. But you know I find working at Hogwarts pleasurable myself. I’ve got a wonderful superior.”

Arthur Weasley laughed. “I’ve always thought that the two of you make a great couple. But tell me, Minerva, how’s your Quidditch team this year? I couldn’t make it to the last match, so I’m very much looking forward to the one this afternoon. I hope Gryffindor will win.”

“We’re only doing a demonstration with all four main teams, Arthur,” Minerva explained. “There isn’t time for a proper match. Nevertheless you’ll like our team. It isn’t bad, though I miss having a Weasley in it.”

“In twelve years you’ll get the next one!” the Minister answered with a big smile. “And considering that the last of our children will marry this summer, we hope you’ll be provided with a lot of Weasleys in the future.”

Albus tugged at Minerva’s sleeve. “Dear …” he pointed with his eyes to a Gryffindor second year who was waiting a few steps away. Next to her stood a woman who wore something that looked like a cross between a robe, a Victorian dress, and a sarong. The shrill orange of it clashed horribly with her henna red hair and the lilac Birkenstock slippers under the dress.

Molly Weasley asked quietly, “What’s that?”

“That’s Mrs Sîan Liliane Phellps - with two ‘l’s. She believes she’s a witch,” Albus explained in a whisper.

“And she obviously wants to get close to a wizard,” Molly giggled. “Albus, don’t you want to greet your admirer?”

“She’s the mother of a Gryffindor,” Albus grinned. “That means Minerva will have to deal with her.”

“Oh yes. I will!” Minerva nodded at Molly, the ministers and Albus and walked over to the waiting mother-daughter couple. Offering the Muggle woman her hand - and Merlin, had the lady bathed in pure musk? She smelled like something out of Knockturn Alley - she planted her stern, but polite Deputy Headmistress smile firmly on her face. “Welcome to Hogwarts, Mrs Phellps. My name is Minerva McGonagall and I’m the head of Gryffindor house, where your daughter was sorted.”

“Oh, Miss McGonagall!” The woman took Minerva’s hand. “Morgaine,” she smiled down at her daughter who looked as if she’d rather feed Hagrid’s most vicious pets than present her mother to her Head of House, “has already told me so much about you. And I’ve always wanted to meet another witch.” She giggled and lowered her voice. “Although I must say that I wouldn’t mind meeting your endearing Headmaster again. He’s such a charming man! And he really looks like Merlin. And you know, only the other week I was at a meeting of sorceresses - white witches, of course - at Stonehenge and there I met this wonderful seer and she read my palms for me. She prophesied that I’d soon meet a man again who would play an important role in my life and you know what? She said he would have deep blue eyes and silver hair and …,” she giggled once again.

To Minerva this giggle worked like the sound of a steel nail scraping over a chalkboard. She shuddered and looked at the place where Albus had stood. This time her lawfully wedded knight wasn’t willing to save his damsel in distress. Searching the crowd in the cloister Minerva got a glimpse of white hair on the opposite side of the yard. Her husband had chickened out and was now talking with a school governor. Although Minerva usually found them pompous bores, she almost envied Albus now.

Yet she had to bear with Mrs Phellps, the lady with the two “l”s and the odd taste in clothing. She was still talking like a waterfall, though her daughter was now looking as if she’d like to ask her Head of House if casting a silencing charm on a mother would garner her some extra points.

“You know,” she was now babbling, “I’ve always known that I’m a witch. And now I’m so happy. Morgaine - you know I christened my daughter after the great witch Morgaine Le Fay. You certainly know her …”

She paused to breathe, which Minerva promptly used as a chance to say dryly, “Unfortunately I’ve never met her. It’s rumoured that she’s been rather dead for at least a thousand years …”

The want-to-be-witch didn’t allow herself to be stopped so easily. “My daughter told me that only magical people can see Hogwarts. But I can see it too!” She opened her arms and whirled around. “That’s why my love teas are working so well!” she cried in delight.

Minerva took a deep breath. “Actually - today everyone who comes close enough can see the castle,” she explained. “The Headmaster dropped the inner wards. We’re now only protected from the Muggle world by a do-not-notice ward at the outer borders of our grounds.”

Even that didn’t stop Mrs Phellps with the two “l”s. She chattered along happily, “You should try my teas once, Minerva. At your age one sometimes needs a bit of help catching a man, doesn’t one? Oh - and you don’t mind me calling you Minerva? It’s such a nice name though a bit old-fashioned. You know, I’m just so excited about meeting another witch and I’m sure we’ll become great friends! I’d so like to visit Hogwarts more often. And you must come to see me! I’ve a shop for herbal teas and other magical things like wish candles and magical stones and amulets. And I sell these wonderful cards for looking into the future. You will love it, I’m sure!” Once again she was giggling - and once again Minerva wished that using magic on Muggles wasn’t illegal. “You know,” the Muggle woman proceeded now in a whisper, “I intend to invite your attractive superior too. I really would like to get to know him better. He’s so handsome and quite sexy! And him being such a strong wizard - that certainly makes for great you-know-what!”

Now Minerva had really had enough. Raising her chin she said in her iciest voice, “I don’t think the Headmaster’s wife would approve of your ideas regarding her husband, Mrs Phellps.”

“Oh?” At last Minerva had gotten the attention of the woman. “He’s married?”

“Yes,” Minerva confirmed briskly.

“Happily?”

Once again Minerva needed to take a deep breath. “I hope so,” she responded coldly.

“Do you know his wife?” Sîan Liliane Phellps asked.

Minerva’s eyes narrowed. “Yes, I do. I know her rather well, in fact. Her name is Minerva McGonagall-Dumbledore - a bit old fashioned perhaps, but nevertheless, in my opinion, nice. And she prefers to be addressed either as ‘Professor McGonagall’ or as ‘Madame Dumbledore’. If you’ll excuse me?” She turned on her heel and swept away.

***************************************

Albus washed his hands, looked in the mirror and, with a little sigh, cast a combination cooling and combing charm over his head. It was a warm day, and standing all morning in the cloister talking to the guests had made him sweaty. Now it was ten minutes before lunchtime and he’d stolen away to go where even great wizards had to go on foot - though Albus sometimes Apparated there in his phoenix form, shocking his colleagues so much that Filius Flitwick had once demanded a “phoenix free men’s loo” in Hogwarts.

Stepping out of the washroom in the little corridor behind the staffroom he heard the swish of a robe on the stairs and light steps. The rhythm of them he would have recognized even in a huge crowd and so he slipped, smiling, into the little alcove where the stairs began. Quietly he waited until Minerva came up there, catching her with one quick move and pulling her into his arms and into the alcove. Smiling down at her he whispered, “Got you! And now I want my good morning kiss at last!”

“You crazy old crackpot!” Minerva protested, but nevertheless wrapped her arms around his neck, presenting him with her lips.

He planted a kiss in the left corner of her mouth. “You know, Darling,” he said, “your scolding me would sound more believable if you didn’t look so kissable doing it.” He didn’t give her a chance to reply, but laid his mouth over hers, tenderly nibbling at her bottom lip.

He’d actually intended only to give her a sweet, little kiss, but when she opened her mouth, he couldn’t resist. Deepening the kiss, he worked his hands under her outer robe and cupped her firm buttocks, pressing her close to him.

“Albus!” She’d turned her head away and shook it now. “You’re really impossible!”

“That comes from …” he started, but suddenly became aware that she would probably be rather surprised if he just said what he thought. To him it wasn’t news anymore, but Minerva - heavens, he’d been trying for two days to tell her! But they’d both been very busy and in the rare moments they’d spent together she always talked about school business.

But now she was looking at him, tenderly tugging a strand of his hair behind his ear.

“Minerva, there’s something I need to …”

He didn’t get a chance to proceed. From down the corridor he heard the silky voice of his Potions Master, “I don’t see why I should give you space in my stands. Why don’t you ask Dee Sprout or Minerva? Your Muggle collection and theirs would certainly mix better than …”

Filius Flitwick sounded angry as he interrupted, “Severus, you know yourself Dee’s got even more people than I. And Minerva’s stands are on the opposite side of the pitch! You won’t have all your places occupied - so where’s your problem with giving a few of them to Ravenclaw students and parents?”

“Well,” Severus snarled, “the parents of my charges are wizards. They’re all able to apparate, so a few of them will be coming only for the Quidditch demonstration after lunch. I don’t think your Muggles would feel comfortable around so many wizards.”

“Sometimes I really wonder how your Muggleborn wife can stand being with such a biased, arrogant pureblood brat like you, Severus!” the Charms Master ranted. “But if you can’t bring yourself to cooperate at least for once, I’m to ask Albus to order you.”

Albus let Minerva go, sighed and stepped onto the stairs. “I’m here. And I suggest we give up the normal custom of every House sitting in its stands and simply mix all over. That way all students and parents will find a place …”

“… and the Slytherins will have a chance to present themselves as elite by showing excellent manners towards our Muggle guests,” Minerva finished the line for him. Looking at her watch, she proceeded in her best, stern teacher tone, “Lunch time, gentlemen!” She energetically started to climb up the stairs, followed by the three men.

Severus was the quickest. Rushing up, he stepped behind Minerva and said, “Sometimes one might think you didn’t like Slytherins, Minerva.”

“What’s your point? You used to detest Gryffindors,” Minerva snapped back. “Nevertheless you married one. You know a child of yours and Hermione’s could easily become a Gryffindor. Would you deny your fatherhood then?” She arrived at the chamber behind the Great Hall. Entering it she smiled at Albus. “Oh, by the way, be careful around Mrs Phellps with the two ‘l’s, my dear. She wants to seduce you.”

“Ah?” He raised an eyebrow. “And what would you do if I fell for her?”

“Nothing, my beloved,” Minerva responded sweetly. “I’m your wife and I’ve sworn to be with you in good and bad times, and in sickness and health. So I’d look after you, and I’d even bring you some sherbet lemons if your therapist approved.” She nodded at him and entered the hall.

Smiling broadly, Albus watched her enter the Great Hall. He was proud of her. His wife - beautiful, strong, passionate, witty. Sometimes he still couldn’t believe that he’d gotten her. And sometimes he still felt surprised at what had happened to him since he married her.

When he proposed, he hadn’t done so because he wanted to change anything in their relationship. He’d been perfectly content with it as it had been. His only sorrow had been that Minerva wouldn’t be happy as his mistress - at least not in the long term. So he’d married her, hoping for nothing more than keeping what he had.

Yet the wedding had changed their relationship very much. To know that she was his wife, that she belonged to him in sickness and health, in good and bad times, that she wouldn’t leave him anymore, had changed how he looked at her and how he felt about her. And learning that, for him, she was more than the other women he’d been with, Minerva had opened up entirely to him, showing him her love without reservation.

Minerva’s love - it meant the world to him. With her he was sure that she didn’t love a delusion about him as the invincible, omnipotent hero, but his real self, the failing, doubting man. With her he experienced for the first time in his life a love he could really trust in. Minerva had known him for half a century, she’d seen him in his weakest moments, she’d been at his side when he felt lost and she’d comforted him when he cried. She knew him better than every other human being - and she loved him nevertheless.


*************************

“Aahh!” With a long moan Albus let himself down on the sofa in his living room, not bothering how rumpled his robe would become. Opening the buttons of his collar, he waved a hand and commanded, “Accio firewhiskey!” The bottle that stood on the mantelpiece sailed over to him. Albus caught it, opened it and allowed himself a big gulp.

“Headmaster! Where are your manners? Drinking directly out of the bottle - really, Albus!” Minerva had entered. Approaching the sofa, she let her outer robe slip from her shoulders, sat down, took the bottle out of his hand, treated herself with a sip too and smiled at him. “One would think you were exhausted.”

“I am, sweet spouse, I am.” He shifted and laid his head in her lap. “I’m completely, utterly groggy. I feel like I’ve been run over by the Knight Bus.”

Minerva leaned across him to put the bottle back on the table. “What made you so tired? Flirting with the Muggle mothers?” she teased him.

“Flirting?” Albus moaned once again. “The blonde in the costume is a vegetarian - one of the sort who believe that vegetarians are better human beings. Eating meat - so she explained to me - makes people aggressive. If we all would refrain from it, only eating vegetables and what nature offers us voluntarily, the world would be a much more peaceful place.”

“Considering that Hitler was a vegetarian, I find that hard to believe,” Minerva said dryly. Taking his spectacles off, she started to massage his temples with her fingertips. “I hope the other ladies weren’t so tiresome.”

Albus sighed and closed his eyes, enjoying her soft hands on his head. “The brunette wasn’t much better. She’s fighting for animal rights and wanted to discuss the misuse of animals at Hogwarts with me.”

“Misuse of animals? What did she mean by that?” Minerva demanded to know.

“Your teapots, Darling.” Albus yawned and tried to slip out of his left boot by using the right foot to push it down. “She asked me what would become of the tortoises you transfigured during your demonstration. I told her you’d change them back to teapots and she got all excited. She wanted to know how I would feel if I’d been transformed into a teapot.”

Minerva watched his struggle with his boot. Pulling her wand out, she cast a charm which freed him not only from the boots, but from his outer robes too. “And? How would you feel as a teapot?” she smiled.

He grinned back. “You know I like it very much when you undress me, but for the next hour you shouldn’t set your hopes too high.”

She rolled her eyes. “Smartmouth! As if you would be up to more than yawning after the hour! Knowing you I’d say you’ll be asleep, snoring, in the next ten minutes. But until then you can tell me - how would you feel as a teapot?”

“I don’t know,” Albus tried to suppress another yawn. “I never was one. But I told the lady that my wife calls me a ‘crackpot’ and that she’s the saner one of our team. So I probably am a crackpot - and I like it. To hear myself being called one always makes me feel beloved and looked after.” He caught her hand and pulled it to his mouth, lightly biting in her thumb. “Minerva?” he looked up at her, suddenly serious again. “There’s something I have to tell you …”

“Hmm?” She looked tenderly down at him.

Albus took a deep breath. He couldn’t remember when he’d last spoken these words. He couldn’t even remember when he’d last felt like saying them. For years he’d always managed to manoeuvre himself around it. And he’d actually thought he would never feel a need to utter those three words for the rest of his days. Yet two days ago, sitting in an utterly boring conference at the Ministry, he’d suddenly realized that he would have to tell Minerva.

That he felt this way had been a surprise to him. He’d thought himself too old, too cynical and too disillusioned. He’d thought these feelings something he’d grown out of - not gladly, but inevitably. Perhaps this wrong belief had been the reason he hadn’t noticed what had happened to him earlier.

He’d fallen - hard and completely - for his own wife. He was in love with the woman he’d married - so very much so that he sometimes felt like one of the teenagers she had to teach. Just looking at her made his stomach become tight and his heart hammer, and a smile from her was enough to make his knees turn to jelly.

And now she was looking at him expectantly, with the smile she reserved for him. Bending down, she kissed his forehead and laid her head on his shoulder.

He pulled the pins out of her bun and let his fingers glide through her hair. “Minerva, I …,” he whispered, but once again he couldn’t get the words out. Wouldn’t they sound banal to her? Would she think he only said them because he felt obliged to? They were happy together. Why should he change something in their relationship by suddenly talking about something he was used to showing her? Perhaps it would be better if he gave her action instead of words. One didn’t need to talk, did one?

No, he really didn’t need to talk. Minerva obviously wasn’t interested much in a conversation because she’d just undone three buttons of his robe. Shoving her fingers in, she played with the hair on his chest while her other hand opened the rest of the buttons on his collar.

“Hmm!” he purred.

Minerva chuckled, bent down, and painted a wet circle around his nipple with the tip of her tongue while she dexterously undid the buttons over his belly.

“Are you trying to seduce me?” he asked with a smile.

She removed his belt and let her hand wander down over his thigh. “You know, I always find the thought of you being naked under your robes rather exciting,” she said. “Only all these buttons are tiresome.”

“Well – I am a wizard.” He raised his hand and waved it over his body. The robe fell open, giving Minerva access to his chest, belly and groin. “Better?” he asked.

“Much better!” Bending down she kissed his belly, giggling. “I obviously don’t give you enough exercise, my dear. Severus has lost weight since Hermione moved in. But you’ve gained some.”

He promptly tried to suck his belly in, sighing. “I should eat fewer sweets.”

Another kiss landed on his belly. “No, Albus. I like you as you are. And I like your belly too. It suits you and it looks cute,” Minerva answered, her hands gliding over his thighs. “And your legs I like too. It’s probably good that you always hide them under your robes. You already have enough admirers.”

“But I’m only interested in one woman.” He waved his hand again, this time vanishing her clothes. Stroking her naked shoulders he smiled at her. “I’m really a lucky man. The one I’m interested in is not only strong and intelligent, but very beautiful too.” Pulling her down onto him, he kissed her tenderly, his hands gliding over her back.

“Albus - don’t you think we should get in bed?” Minerva asked.

“I’m too lazy to stand up,” he grumbled, nibbling at her neck.

“Oh Albus!” Minerva rose and bent down to her robe.

“Now I feel rather lonely,” he complained.

Minerva pulled out her wand. Directing it at him she smiled, “You’re really a lucky man. You’re married to a witch.” Waving her wand she commanded, “Mobilicorpus!”

Albus was hovering over the sofa now, laughing at her. “That’s a nice way to get me into bed.”

“Lazybones! Just wait until I’ve got you there!” Minerva directed him with her wand over the sofa and through the door into the bedroom. Once he was over the mattress she let him sink down, put her wand on the nightstand and crawled into bed. Kneeling next to her husband, she kissed his belly once again. “It seems I’ll have to do all work tonight.” And without further ado she lay down and took his already half-erect member into her mouth.

He hadn’t been prepared for such a direct approach. Bucking he moaned, “Minerva! Do you want to drive me - uuh …” He couldn’t finish his sentence because she’d started to suck on him, tenderly fondling his testicles.

At first he’d been reluctant to let her close to him when he wasn’t entirely aroused. For a century he’d been used to seducing and spoiling his lovers without expecting them to pay back in the same way. It hadn’t been necessary. Pleasing them had always been enough to give him an erection.

Yet Minerva liked to play a rather active part in bed. She obviously enjoyed arousing him very much - and who was he to deny his wife what was not only a pleasure for her, but for him as well? How had she expressed it once? “To know that I’m able to get you so excited, to hear you moan and pant is an incredible ego-boost. It makes me feel very female, desirable and happy.”

And it fired his passion up to heights he’d never experienced before.

“Minerva!” She’d started purring and the vibrations of her throat almost made him explode. He struggled for air and, biting on his bottom lip, he managed to warn her, “Keep this up and you won’t have much fun with me anymore.”

Minerva chuckled. “I always have fun with you, Albus.”

He used the little break she gave him to pull her up and turn her around onto her back. “I want to come with you,” he murmured, kissing her and moving his hand down between her legs.

Minerva caught it before it had reached its destination. “No, Albus,” she chuckled. “If I’m not allowed to play you aren’t either.”

“Ah - and what are we doing then?” he asked.

“You make love to me,” Minerva told him. “I’ve waited all day to feel you inside me.” With her mouth almost on his she whispered, “I need you, Albus - now!”

Rolling over her, he parted her legs with his knees, guiding his erection into her. “Minerva - oh Gods, Minerva!” he moaned. “You feel so good! Hot and tight and perfect - and heavens, I’ve waited all day to be inside you! I missed you, I longed for you …” Words failed him as he started to move. He wanted to go slowly, to make their lovemaking last as long as possible, but once again his wife seemed to have another idea.

Pulling his head down for a passionate kiss, Minerva bucked her hips and sped him up. With her legs wrapped around him and her nails digging into his shoulders, she threw her head back, her mouth open and her forehead glimmering with sweat.

“Harder, Albus!” she demanded, wriggling and bucking. Her voice - there was something in it that reminded Albus of a wildcat - and he loved it! All his life he’d kept the passion and fire inside him under control, never wanting to confront a woman with it. But with Minerva he didn’t have to restrain himself anymore. She was not only strong enough to keep up with him, but demanded that he give himself entirely over to her and their mutual need.

Pounding into her hard and fast, Albus knew he wouldn’t last long. But he wouldn’t come before her, he wouldn’t! He wanted to please her, he needed it and …

“Albus!” Her entire body trembled, her hands, which had clung to his back, opened and she made a sound like a loud, long purr.

Her climax was his undoing. He fell into an abyss filled with lust, pleasure and joy, losing himself in it entirely, nevertheless knowing that he was held and beloved.

When he came back to himself, he felt Minerva’s hand on his cheek, softly smoothing a sweaty strand of hair behind his ear. She smiled gently at him. “Welcome back, Albus. Where have you been?”

He kissed the tip of her nose and rolled off her, pulling her into his arms and cradling her head on his shoulder. “I was in paradise, my darling. And I think you were with me.”

“I was,” Minerva confirmed, snuggling against him.

For a few minutes they both enjoyed their closeness in silence. Then Minerva turned on her side. Propping her head on her hand, she looked down at him. “Wasn’t there something you wanted to tell me, Albus?”

“Oh.” He took a deep breath. “Yes, actually there was something.” He cleared his throat. “The other day, during this boring conference at the Ministry, I thought about you - or us - or more accurately, about you and me - let’s say I thought about how it feels to be your husband. You know you’ve made me a happy man, don’t you?”

She was winding a strand of his hair around her fingers as she loved to do and smiled tenderly at him. “I’m happy with you too, Albus.” Bending down, she kissed him. “I love you, Albus.”

“Minerva …” he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. “At the Ministry …” once again words were failing him. He swallowed and tried anew. “I realized I’d have to tell you at last …” He looked at her, smiling awkwardly. “I haven’t said it in over eighty years …”

“Oh, Albus!” Minerva once again raised her head, looking into his eyes. “Is it really so hard to speak it out? It’s only three, simple words - I love you. See? It’s easy.

“You know?” Albus stared at her.

Minerva laughed out loud. “Of course I do. I wouldn’t have married you if I hadn’t been convinced that you returned my love.”

“I actually didn’t know until a few days ago,” Albus grumbled, almost a bit disappointed that his confession hadn’t made more of an impression.

“Oh my dear,” Minerva chuckled. “Men are always a bit slower in the uptake.”

“That means you’re in love with a moron,” Albus said, sounding amused.

Minerva lightly bit the tip of his nose. “A few days ago I was once again at odds with our esteemed Potions master. And so I said to Hermione that her dear husband sometimes is a real bastard. Her answer was, ‘Of course he’s a bastard, but he’s my bastard.’ In our case - Of course you’re a moron. But you’re my very beloved moron, and I wouldn’t want to have you any other than as you are.”


The End


AN: Special thanks to my wonderful beta-reader Angharad! You did - as always - a great job and I wouldn\'t know what dowithout you!