Measure for measure

Measure for Measure



Disclaimer: see chapter 1

Chapter 5: Marital duties

With a little sigh Albus placed the folder with the papers he’d just signed on the empty desk of his secretary. He’d actually hoped Delenn March would be still in her office although it was already after six. In the four years since Minerva had persuaded him to hire someone who would organize his office, he’d become accustomed to the always kind young witch who worked for him and he’d always enjoyed sharing a lemon drop and a little chat with her in the evenings.

Now it seemed she’d deserted him, too. It was actually quite ironic, as a bachelor, Albus had often longed for having a little time of his own. Sometimes it had gone so far that he’d escaped to a Muggle pub just for musing silently for a while over a beer without people demanding his attention. However, since he’d married, he didn’t feel the urge to escape for some time alone anymore because since then, he had more time of his own than he could have ever wished for. He’d always thought himself rich for having wonderful, loyal friends, but now these friends were angry with him - so angry, they didn’t want to be in his company anymore.

Alastor, despite of being a Slytherin, always outspoken und direct, had been the first one to give Albus a good piece of his mind. The day after the article in Witch Weekly had been printed; he’d stormed Palazzo Houdini, his natural eye blazing. Throwing the magazine on the desk Albus was sitting at, he pointed to the article, “Tell me that’s a misunderstanding or a hoax. I can’t believe you’ve really done that.”

“Alastor, I wish I could explain…” Albus had started.

Alastor immediately interrupted him. “One question, Albus. Were you there? Did you spend a night in the American embassy only three days after your wedding?”

“Alastor,” Albus had tried once again, “it’s not like it looks. I know this sounds like a silly cliché, but…”

“Indeed, it sounds like a damned silly, idiotic cliché!” Alastor had snorted. “You know what? I don’t want to hear your excuse. I’m not interested in them. I was, for almost seventy years, on your side and I always defended you. I did even when I didn’t understand what you were up to. I was the one telling people ‘Albus knows what he’s doing. Just trust him’. However, I’ve had enough. You treat people as if they were your servants? Well, as far as I’m concerned, the game is over, Albus - and you’ve lost!”

The next one had been Augustus, calm as always and showing himself as the just man he’d always been. “I don’t want to judge you before I’ve given you a chance to explain yourself,” he’d said.

This time, Albus had tried another defence tactic. “Augustus, Hermione and I agreed that we’d let each other maintain our freedom. We married because she’s pregnant and because we want to bring up our child together.”

It hadn’t helped him. Augustus had, for a few seconds, studied his face, and then shook his head. “I’m sorry, Albus,” he’d said, his voice calm and dry. “Your marriage and the way you deal with your wife is, of course, your private matter. Unfortunately, I don’t like it. Loyalty was always very important for you, but loyalty doesn’t work in only one direction. How can I trust someone who even isn’t loyal to his pregnant wife? Albus, I’m not a prude and even if I don’t like arrangements like yours, it could be seen as your private matter. Only you made it public, Albus, and in this you didn’t behave as one can expect from a gentleman. You’ve caused a situation which demands a decision. Mine is done. I’m on Hermione’s side.”

Albus didn’t need to ask what Minerva thought about it. It was clear that she was in total agreement with her husband. He’d been prepared for her being cross with him. Yet for one thing, he hadn’t been prepared and that was for her not ranting and yelling at him, but treating him with an icy formality which made clear she was not only furious with him, but disgusted by his behaviour.

Poppy Pomfrey,the mediwitch who’d been always his dear friend, someone Albus could lean on when he felt down, wasn’t on his side, either. Her reaction had been one single line, “I’m so disappointed in you, Albus.”

The rest of the staff hadn’t said anything, but they acted distant and reserved with Albus, while at the same time, gathering around Hermione, treating her with care and affection and showing they would even be on her side if she was to start a war against her husband and headmaster.

Only Hermione didn’t seem to want that, just on the contrary. She was the only person who treated him - no, not as if nothing would have happened, but kind and with indefinite politeness. She kept her distance from him, but when she talked to him, her tone didn’t betray any hostility and her eyes didn’t blaze at him.

However, what she really thought about him, Albus hadn’t an idea about. During the time she’d been his apprentice, he’d sometimes teased her that she wouldn’t be able to hide anything from him, but during their so called “honeymoon” she’d obviously learned how to do exactly that. It went so far, that Albus sometimes thought she’d become an adult only recently. The eager little know-it-all who’d always said openly what went through her mind, the blue stocking who’d never cared about her appearance, was gone. And with her, the ink spots on her fingers and the quill behind her ear and the jeans and the sweaters and the often crumpled robes had disappeared. Now Hermione proudly presented to the world Professor Granger - a young woman in impeccable blue or burgundy robes over elegant dresses, silken stockings and pumps.

In former times, Hermione had often become mixed up with a student. This didn’t happen anymore. The pupils seemed to see her with new eyes, and some of the older boys obviously liked the new Hermione very much. Just the other day, Albus had heard how Herbology teacher, Pomona Sprout, had teased Hermione about being the reason she’d have to set up new wards around her flower beds. “All my lilies and roses are gone, and I wouldn’t wonder if they ended on your desk or in front of your office door.”

Albus actually wasn’t sure how he felt about the new Hermione. He’d loved the girl in sneakers; he’d always adored her cheerfulness and openness. Yet the new Hermione - she didn’t only look lovely, but seemed to have developed an awareness of her womanhood which made her almost irresistible to him. During meals, he found himself often watching her, fascinating by her movements and the almost feline elegance. He couldn’t help himself, he was jealous of the men who didn’t only sit next to her in the Great Hall, but seemed to be around her all the time. In a way, it reminded him of Hermione during her school days, only the two knights flanking her weren’t Ron Weasley and Harry Potter anymore, but Alastor Moody and the new Charms master, Sebastian von Peregrin.

Albus was especially jealous of the last one because the young German Filius had recommended him as the one who’d become his successor was just the type of man he’d have chosen for Hermione.

Sebastian von Peregrin wasn’t a male beauty. In the Hogwarts “most slobbered on male teacher” contest, he only ranked third after the well muscled redhead Charlie Weasley, who taught Care of Magical Creatures and the new Potions master, Yves de Beauregard. Yet Sebastian von Peregrin wasn’t ugly. He was just thirty years old, tall, broad shouldered and a bit soft around the middle which suited him well. With his blond, shoulder-length curls and his sky blue eyes, it made him look like a baroque angel. And he had a deep, soft voice and an infecting laughter. Albus hadn’t had much opportunity to talk to the young man yet, but he’d already learned that Sebastian von Peregrin was intelligent, well read and had wit, was dry in humour and always to the point.

It was no wonder that Hermione and Sebastian von Peregrin had, from the first moment they’d met, gotten along with each other. In a way, Albus was glad about it. Except of Charlie Weasley, who was married and spent his free time at his cottage in Hogsmeade where his wife and their two children lived, Sebastian was the only member of the staff which wasn’t only around Hermione’s age, but someone she could talk and laugh with.

On the other hand, it was hard to watch Hermione with Sebastian. She was entirely at ease with the young Charms master, often laughing and joking with him. Frequently, they touched each other, mostly when joking, but even when Hermione slapped his arm it looked tender.

Just a few days before, Albus flying in his phoenix form over the grounds, had seen the two of them walking up the path from the gates through the dark, Sebastian’s arm was around Hermione’s shoulders, hers around his waist. They’d looked like a happy couple and Albus had felt like he had been stabbed with a knife. Of course, he’d given Hermione her freedom, and he’d meant it. He didn’t want her to suffer loneliness. However, lying in his bed later, he hadn’t gotten the thought of Hermione and the Charms master out of his head. To imagine that they slept together, now, just at this moment, under the same roof as Albus, that Sebastian kissed and touched her, that the played with her breasts - and heavens, the pregnancy became Hermione! Her breasts had been lovely before, but now they’d become even more rounded and Albus who’d all his life had loved lush women, couldn’t look at Hermione without almost slobbering in her cleavage.

He certainly didn’t tend to self-pity. He actually always detested it, but in the night after he’d seen Hermione and Sebastian, he’d been close to tears. He’d felt as if fate - and he’d always been convinced that his personal fate was female and didn’t like him much - would laugh her butt off at him. With one hand, she had given him what he’d craved for all his life, the chance to have a family of his own. Yet with the other hand, she’d taken away from him what he loved, his friends and his wife. The knowledge he had caused his downfall himself, that it had been his mistake which had driven her away from him, made him feel even more miserable.


Sighing, he marched back in his office, looking at the card which lay on the middle of his desk. He’d shoved it from the left on the right side for three days now, but he knew he couldn’t avoid answering it forever. He picked it up, put it in the cuff of his sleeve and looked over to the perch where his phoenix, Fawkes, normally sat. He wasn’t there and being familiar with the habits of his feathered friend, Albus knew what this meant. Hermione was back from classes, probably at her desk now, grading essays, and Fawkes was with her since he mostly kept her company, in order to pester her for apple slices and cookies.

Climbing up the stairs to Hermione’s study on the floor over his bedroom, Albus felt a slight clenching of his stomach as mostly when he was about to approach his wife’s section of the Main tower. Talking with her in private was hard for him. He wanted so much to take her in his arms, to kiss her, to show her how much he longed for her, but he didn’t dare to show her his feelings. He was well aware that he was on very thin ice with her and he didn’t want to endanger the agreement they’d formed. Besides she’d made entirely clear that she didn’t want to be close to him. He had gambled away his chance with her and now he would have to live with what was left.

Arriving at the door of Hermione’s study, Albus heard cheerful voices. Hermione was, with much laughter, scolding the Charms master, “You’re such a madman, Basti! I certainly won’t let you play around with my baby!”

“You’re aware you spoil his chances to become the hero of all young mothers in our world?” That had been Alastor, obviously very amused.

Albus sighed. Alastor’s presence wouldn’t make his task easier. Nevertheless, he knocked and waited patiently until the door was opened.

It was Alastor who looked at him, his brow furrowed and his natural eye hostile. “What do you want here?” he asked.

Before Albus could answer, Hermione had risen. She’d slipped out of her teaching robe and was now only wearing a chocolate brown skirt and a soft beige jumper which showed her slightly swollen abdomen. Laying her hand protectively over it, she said firmly, “Alastor, Albus has a right to be here. Remember, he’s my husband.” Smiling at Albus, she proceeded, “We were just ready to have tea. Would you, nevertheless, like a cup?”

Alastor limped to the chair where his black robe hung. Throwing it over his arm, he marched to the door, the claw at the end of his wooden leg clunking on the floor. “I’m going,” he announced. “Thanks for the tea, lassie.”

Sebastian von Peregrin had stood up, too. Tying shut his dark blue robe, he looked rather awkward. “I have a pile of essays waiting,” he said. “If you’d excuse me, Headmaster?”

“Of course, Professor von Peregrin. Alastor….” Albus nodded at his old friend.

Hermione provided Alastor with a peck on the cheek. “Old grumbler!” she said tenderly. “I’ll see you later!” She turned to the Charms master. “And you stay away from nappies, will you?”

“I can’t promise,” the young man grinned. “However, you don’t need to be afraid. I won’t make your baby my guinea pig.”

Albus swallowed. “I didn’t want to drive your friends away….”

“They have work to do,” Hermione pointed to the chairs. “Don’t you want to sit down, Albus? You look tired.”

“Well - it was a long day. Yet you look dashing, Hermione. Pregnancy becomes you.”

She smiled, shoved her belly forward and folded her hands over it. “I actually like it. The sickness phase is over, baby and I are accustomed to each other now, and the little genius is very lively. This morning during my class with the Slytherins, he made somersaults and I had to fight to not laugh like mad. It tickles when he moves.”

“I’m very glad you’re well, Hermione,” Albus said, smiling at her. She looked really endearing. and he wanted so much to pull her on his lap, put his nose in her hair, forgetting, for at least a few minutes, all about their difficulties.

She sat down next to him, studying him intensely. “Albus,” she started quietly, “you know how stubborn Alastor is. But I’m sure he’ll come around. Give him some time.”

He smiled weakly. “Thank you for defending me, Hermione. I appreciate it very much.” He pulled the card out of his cuff and gave it to Hermione. “I would understand if you’d refuse to accompany me….”

Hermione studied the invitation for the autumn ball in the ministry. It was addressed to “Headmaster Albus Dumbledore and Professor Hermione Dumbledore”, which promptly made her snort. “The idea of a woman keeping her name obviously is too advanced for the old chauvinists at the ministry. However, you have to attend this ball, don’t you?”

“Hogwarts needs donations,” Albus responded with a sigh. “That means I’ll have to present myself in society now and then.”

“Under given circumstances, your appearance without your wife would make for new rumours about us,” Hermione said calmly.

“I could excuse you with your pregnancy, saying you don’t feel well,” Albus offered.

“Who would believe it? People know I’m still teaching.” Hermione shook her head. “I don’t think I’d like to read another article about us by that ghastly Skeeter. Besides, your reputation is shattered enough.”

“Yes.” Albus looked at the fire. “I’d be very grateful if you would come with me, Hermione.”

“Well.” Hermione smiled at him. “Then let’s face the hostile world of society together.”

“Thank you, Hermione.” Albus felt relieved. “I really appreciate that.”

Hermione patted his arm. “Perhaps it will become fun. Do you already know what you’ll wear? I have to get something new and I wouldn’t like to appear in colours clashing with ours.”

Albus relaxed and leaned back, crossing his long legs. “I need new robes, too, and I thought of ordering burgundy and gold.”

“Hmm,” Hermione smiled mischievously. “It’s a few weeks since I’ve shocked my friends last. Perhaps I should do it again now. What do you think about me wearing green and silver?”

“I’d like that,” Albus replied. Clearing his throat he softly asked, “Hermione, may I pay for the new robe?” He knew how sensitive she was about money. She was proud of her independence, therefore she hadn’t touched the vault he’d set up for her at the wizard’s bank, Gringotts.

Now she considered his offer for a moment, then she smiled. “Well - under one condition, you accompany me to Madame Malkin’sto purchase it, and while we’re already at Diagon Alley, I’d like to go to the baby shop with you, too. It’s a bit early, but I’d like to get a cot and some other things for the nursery.”

“I’d love to accompany you!” Albus’ mood was brightening. That she wanted to share her baby shopping with him, was a good sign, wasn’t it? It certainly would be nice to go shopping with her. In the contrast to most men, he’d always liked shopping with women. “Will we get the first rompers and shirts and such things, too?” he asked.

Hermione looked a bit awkward. “Actually - I’ve already bought the first rompers. I was with Ginny in Muggle London last week and there was this baby shop and I simply couldn’t resist.” She stood up. “Do you want to see what I’ve got? It’s so cute!”

“Of course I want to see our little one’s wardrobe,” Albus said.

Hermione went over to her cabinet, opened a drawer, took a bag with the advertisement of a baby shop out and pulled an azure blue romper out. Holding it in front of her, she smiled at Albus. “Molly Weasley says most babies are born with blue eyes. So I thought that would suit the little genius.”

Albus looked almost shocked at the romper. “Hermione!” he swallowed. “Are you sure that’s the right size? It’s so tiny!”

Hermione stroked the little thing. “Albus, newborn babies are tiny! And I’m glad about. I’d hate to push an elephant out of my body.”

Albus shuddered by the idea of Hermione giving birth. She would suffer so much pain and he wouldn’t be able to help her.

Now Hermione had a pair of socks in her hand. She looked at them and giggled, “It’s hard to believe!”

“What, Hermione?” Albus asked.

She pointed at his feet in the usual black boots. “That your huge feet once fit in something like these socks!”

He wriggled his toes and grinned. “You were once tiny, too, and I’m sure you were a very cute baby.”

“Hmm.” Hermione put the socks and rompers back in the drawer. Coming back and sitting down again, she started to say cautiously, “Albus, in four weeks, I have to stop teaching. Only I can’t imagine hanging around all day with nothing to do. I would like to work on something during that time.”

“Any ideas about it yet?” Albus asked.

“Yes. I’d like to work on the combination of charms and spells by liquid transfiguration. Basti - I mean, Sebastian Peregrin –gave me an idea. If we could combine transportation charms and the liquid transformation progress, we should be able to get the liquid stable. You know, there’s a theory that the transportation charms work in going down to the cell structure. If that’s true - and I think it is - a combination could solve the problem we have in liquid transfiguration.”

Albus scraped himself behind his left ear. “The problem I see here is the time. You can’t cast a charm and a spell in the same time.”

“That’s what we want to work on, if you don’t mind,” Hermione said.

Albus took a deep breath. A few months ago, she would have asked him, but now it was Sebastian she wanted to work with. It wasn’t easy, but he had to accept it. “Hermione, promise me that you won’t work through nights, that you will get yourself enough rest, fresh air and regular meals.”

“Of course, Albus. I know I’m pregnant,” Hermione assured him. “I won’t endanger our little one.”

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


“Oh - and you’re expecting?” The blonde witch in front of Albus showed Hermione her teeth in a fashion, which reminded him of a shark’s announcement to swallow a herring. “How wonderful!” Cleopatra Pemperbroke, wife of Daily Prophet publisher Earnest Pemperbroke, patted Hermione’s hand, lying on Albus arm. “I always believed a man like your husband should have children. You’re Muggleborn, but I suppose you know nevertheless that the Dumbledores are an old family. It would have been so sad if Albus wouldn’t have had an heir. With you being so young, it isn’t a problem if you won’t have a boy now. You can have more children.”

Albus felt Hermione’s fingers on his arm tremble. Putting his hand over hers, he looked at the blonde witch. “You’re so right, Cleopatra!” he said as sweetly as possible. “A family can’t be big enough. Hermione and I agree fully about that. Always when I look at her, I already see the six daughters she’ll give me - all with her beautiful eyes and this sweet smile of hers.”

“Yet the other six children we want to have,” Hermione joined him, “shall become boys - with Albus’ eyes and his nose of course. I love his nose!”

“Oh, darling!” Albus beamed at Hermione, his eyes twinkling like mad. Using his chance, he kissed her cheek before he looked back at Cleopatra Pemperbroke. “You know we’ve got already names for our daughters. The first one will be Themis, then we’ll have Leto, Eurynome, Semele, Alkmene and Aigina.”

“The boys,” Hermione announced cheerfully, “will be named Micah, Nahum, Habakkuk, Zephaniah, Haggai and Zechariah.”

“Oh…” Cleopatra Pemperbroke had, as Albus as her former teacher knew, never been the brightest candle in the chandelier, but now it even seemed to dawn on her that she’d been set up. Giggling girlishly, she patted Albus’ arm. “You’re always so funny! Too bad, I have to leave you now. I see my husband!” Waving she cried “Earnest! Bunny - I’m coming!” and swept, with clicking heels, away.

Albus smiled at Hermione. “Habakkuk?” he asked. “How did you come up with that?” Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw that old Dribblewitt was on his way in their direction and he quickly manoeuvred Hermione around a pillar. “Duck and hide, Hermione. Dribblewitt is coming. If he catches us, we won’t get away for an hour, and you’ll learn all about his heroics in the Goblin Rrevolution of 1898.”

“Uah!” Hermione shuddered. “Ron told me once that Dribblewitt is even more boring than Binns.”

“Perhaps we should hire Dribblewitt for our little one. If he can’t sleep, we’ll make Dribblewitt tell him one of his stories.” Albus suggested.

“Albus!” Hermione tugged at his hair. “You won’t torture our baby!”

“Who was it who wanted to name him Habakkuk?” Albus grinned.

“Habakkuk, Micah, Nahum, Zephaniah, Haggai and Zechariah are the prophets in the Bible,” Hermione explained. “I had a great aunt who made me once learn their names. Now tell me, who are Themis, Leto, Euroynome and - how were the other names?”

“Semele, Alkmene and Aigina,” Albus told cheerfully. “Those ladies were the mistresses of Zeus.”

“Ah, the famous god of the adulterers!” Hermione smiled malicious. “Anyway, you won’t name a daughter of mine Eurynome or Aigina. The names sound like diseases!”

“If you promise me not to name our son Habakkuk or Zephaniah,” Albus said.

“Deal!” Hermione leaned back at the pillar.

Albus looked at her worriedly. “Are you tired, Piccola? Shall we go outside for getting you some fresh air? Or would you rather go to the lounge for sitting down? Or something to eat? The buffet here usually isn’t very good, but it’s better than nothing.”

Hermione shook her head. “Don’t fuss, Albus! I’m fine - and once again, I’m only pregnant, not sick.” Again, she looked around the pillar to the middle of the hall on the dance floor. The band on the balcony was playing a waltz. Hermione tapped with her foot in tune to the tact of it, cocking her head and looking up at him. “Albus,” she started to say a bit cautiously. “Would you terribly mind dancing with me? I mean that’s a ball and even with my thick belly I’d like to dance at least once.”

“I certainly wouldn’t mind. However, are you sure?” Albus answered. “I mean, aren’t your feet hurting? You were on them all day.”

“Albus!” Hermione put her hand on his arm. “Please!”

“If you’re sure, it will be my pleasure.” Albus smiled, pulled her hand through his bent elbow, and led her to the dance floor. While he greeted politely the acquaintances they met on their way, he tried to calm himself down, at least a bit. The thought of holding Hermione in his arms made for his heart hammering hard, and what was even worse, he felt a familiar prickle in his groin. The green dress with the silver trim she was wearing, was actually very decent, not revealing much. Yet it showed her shoulders, her neck and the tops of her breasts and that was already enough to make him nervous.

Only a few months ago he’d believed achieving at last a point in his life where he was at peace with his body and its demands. If he would have been asked about his sexuality, he would have answered, “I’m glad about being able to do it, but even more happy about not needing sex anymore.”

Yet in the last weeks, he’d learned it wasn’t as simple as that. He allowed his body to take over, and since then, he felt as if he’d become addicted. He longed for Hermione, he desired her more as he’d ever wanted another woman and it became worse with every day.

Only one week before he’d entered the staffroom where Hermione had just talked with Filius Flitwick and Yves de Beauregard. She’d bent over the table to look at a paper Filius was showing her, bracing on her elbows and presenting Albus her backside in tight, black trousers.

He’d been very glad about wearing voluminous robes because he’d almost instantly gotten an erection. He remembered how she bent over the balcony’s rail in Venice and he’d flown out of the staffroom and into the washroom where he’d cast a deflating charm on himself.

He was now used to deflating charms. He needed almost every day at least one. Yet the problem with the charms was that they only got his penis down. Against the arousal in his head, they didn’t work. Besides there were the nights and the dreams about her; dreams in which he made love to her again; dreams with her wriggling and panting under him, screaming his name. Waking up in a tussled bed, bathed in sweat and with an aching, leaching erection - in this state, he only needed a few strokes to come and knowing that it would give him a few hours of peace, he usually granted himself this release. Yet he always felt ashamed afterwards because he couldn’t avoid thinking of Hermione by pleasing himself. It felt so wrong! She had said that she didn’t want him to come close to her ever again and he respected her wish. Thinking of her while masturbating was like using her against her will.

Now, he should dance with her. He should hold her in his arms, he should smell her sweet fragrance, he should feel her body against his - and then? How could he hide an erection with her so close to him?

“Albus?”

He’d been so lost in his thoughts, he hadn’t noticed that they were on the dance floor now. “Sorry, Hermione.” He breathed deeply, took her hand in his and laid his arm around the back of her waist. Perhaps if he held her at a distance, she wouldn’t notice what her closeness did to him.

Hermione had other ideas. Raising her arm, she put it on his shoulder and shoved her hand under his hair, touching his neck. The band was obviously in union with his cruel lady fate - it had started with a slow waltz now which made for Hermione snuggling against him. At least he had luck in one point, Hermione was wearing heels which made her so tall, her belly leaned against his. Although he’d lost weight in the last weeks, she had gained some. As long as he kept his groin away from her, he had a chance to come away without her noticing that he was aroused.

Under these circumstances, it was nice to dance with her. Of course, she only was close to him because she wanted to show the Wizarding World that their marriage wasn’t in trouble. Hermione had decided to stand up to him, and Gryffindor that she was, she did it completely and with style.

“Hermione,” he said softly.

“Hmm?” The tips of her finger were stroking his neck and sent shivers of pleasure down his spine.

“One day I’ll tell Habakkuk about this evening,” he whispered. “I’ll say ‘A few weeks before you were born, I was with your mother at a ball. She looked ravishing and she showed the world what a true, proud Gryffindor is. She is a wonderful woman, your mother.”

“Do you really think you must tell him that?” Hermione giggled. “I mean if he hasn’t learned it at the age he’ll understand you, I’ve done something wrong.”

“You won’t,” Albus said seriously. “I’m sure you’ll become a wonderful mother. Habakkuk will know that you’re a great woman.”

Hermione didn’t answer, but laid her head on his shoulder. For a moment, they danced in silence and although Albus’ erection made him feel uncomfortable, he enjoyed this precious moment of harmony.

Now the song was coming to an end and Albus had to let Hermione go. Bowing his head, he thanked her for the dance. “Would you like to sit down now?”

Hermione took his arm and walked away from the dance floor. “Actually,” she said, “I’d like to sit down, but,” she took a deep breath. “Have we done our social duties for tonight?”

“Would you like to go home?” he asked.

“Yes,” Hermione nodded. “My feet seem to have grown during the last hour and my back feels a bit cramped.”

“Then we’ll leave,” Albus decided and looked around for minister Arthur Weasley and his wife, discovering the both, flanked by their children Ron, Fred, George and Ginny and a few ministry bureaucrats at the little bar near the entrance. “Let’s just say goodbye to the Weasley family, shall we?”

“Yes, of course.” Hermione shoved her hand in his. “Smile, Albus,” she whispered.

“I’ll try my best,” he promised, but actually his smile was so forced, the muscles in his cheek almost ached from it. He actually liked the Weasleys, but he was well aware that he was in the moment far away from being very appreciated by them. Molly Weasley, the energetic matron of the family, had always seen Hermione as a member of her clan. Whoever dare hurt a member of her family had a hard time with Molly. Albus actually wondered that she hadn’t hexed him, and he wasn’t sure if he wouldn’t have liked that better than her showing him the cold shoulder like she did now.

Yet at least Arthur Weasley was smiling as Hermione and Albus approached. “Hermione, Albus, would you like to have a drink with us?”

“Thank you, but we came to say goodbye,” Albus responded.

“I’m a bit tired and my feet are aching,” Hermione added.

Molly obviously didn’t understand why Hermione held the hand of the man who’d treated her so badly, but as a mother of seven, she knew how a pregnant woman felt. “What about your back, luv?” she asked sympathetically.

“It’s pretty cramped,” Hermione confessed. “I was teaching all day and now the ball….”

“You must lie down! A pregnant woman needs a lot of rest. Don’t forget you’re carrying not only your own weight, but the baby’s too,” Molly said, glaring at Albus as if he’d overstrained his young wife on purpose.

“We’re on our way back to Hogwarts,” Albus assured. He took Molly’s hand and bent over for a formal hand kiss over it. “Thank you for the invitation.”

Hermione hugged Ginny. “You’ll come tomorrow?” she asked.

“After lunch, I’ll be there,” Ginny promised.

Albus shook Arthur’s hand. “Have a nice evening, Arthur. I’ll see you at Monday in the conference.”

“Good night, everyone!” Hermione took Albus’ hand again and together, they walked down the stairs and into the Apparition zone where Hermione looked at Albus. “Could you Apparate the both of us?”

“I can even Apparate the three of us,” Albus smiled and took Hermione in his arms. “Just hold on.” Hermione laid her arms around his middle and her head against his shoulder. He looked down on her, fighting against the urge to kiss her soft hair. Closing his eyes, he concentrated and murmured the Apparition spell.