The Comedy of Errors

The Comedy of Errors

Disclaimer: see Chapter 1

Chapter 7: Back on track?


Minerva felt like whistling as she walked down the dimly lit, damp corridor of the Hogwarts dungeons. Normally the prospect of visiting potion master Severus Snape certainly wouldn’t have caused Minerva to be almost dancing, but on this day nothing could spoil her exceptionally bright mood. Besides, the conversation with her young colleague would only be an overture for her tour of Diagon Alley and to this Minerva looked very much forward - not only because she’d granted herself the privilege of buying a few new books, but because she looked forward to tea with one of her favourite ex-students. And afterwards she’d apparate back to Hogwarts for dinner with Albus - and perhaps she would have her host for dessert?

Albus had been very busy since they’d come back to Hogwarts two weeks before. First he had dealt with paperwork, Muggle parents, and hiring not only a secretary and a DADA teacher - the famous Hogwarts DADA teacher jinx, in which the professors always lasted for only a year, still seemed to be in effect, though it obviously had weakened after the war. The last one had neither died nor lost her memory, nor had she been revealed as an impostor, but had simply become pregnant. He’d needed to get assistant instructors for transfiguration, potions and charms too. Afterwards Albus had spent four days at an international wizard’s conference in France. From there he’d come back in the middle of the previous night. He’d obviously thought it too late to disturb Minerva, but in the early morning he’d come down to her chambers with a beautiful white rose and a tray with breakfast. He’d been gentle and sweet, but already in the plum robe which marked him as a member of the Wizengamot. “I’d love to spend the day with you,” he’d said, “but I have to go - a trial at the Ministry. I only hope it won’t keep me too long because I’ve promised to help a family reunite. Or better said, I will try to help them. You remember the Muggle mother who didn’t know that the father of her son is a wizard?”

“The one you made the owl available to?” Minerva had asked. “Did she send it?”

“Yes! And her wizard waits at the Leaky Cauldron now for me to pick him up and bring him to his family. He doesn’t speak a word of English, he never was in London before, and so he feels in need of some help …”

She’d laid her hand on his arm. “Albus, you certainly don’t have to justify the fact that you’re helping out. I like it. Besides, I’ll be out myself.”

“Oh?” He’d looked disappointed. “I hoped we could have dinner together.”

“I’ll be back for dinner.” Minerva had smiled at him.

“Wonderful!” His blue eyes had beamed at her as he’d bent down.

Minerva had expected that he would kiss her mouth, but first he’d taken her left breast as a target, gently pushing the fabric of her night gown away. “Albus! Don’t start something you can’t finish!” Minerva had scolded him, but smiled.

“If you knew how much I’d like to finish! I’ve missed you very much, Minerva.”

“I’ve missed you too, but that doesn’t change the fact that you’re expected at the Ministry!” she’d told him.

“Yes, yes, yes,” He’d kissed her mouth and stood up. “I’m on my way, but I’ll be looking forward to our dinner all day!”


Minerva had now arrived at the dark oak door with the sign “Office - Professor Severus Snape, P.M.” She knocked and waited for an invitation which didn’t come. Being the Deputy Headmistress Minerva knew the passwords to her colleague’s offices. Admittedly in Severus Snape’s case she’d rather live without this privilege. Since the war’s end he’d developed the habit of using Latin sayings which Minerva always found chauvinistic. Yet she knew that Snape was only waiting for her to take the bait. She didn’t do him the favour, but sometimes it was hard not to react - as on this day, because Snape’s newest invention was “Varium et mutabile semper femina (1)”.

Entering the office - and why was this man such a drama queen? All the horrible and ugly things he’d put in jars and placed on his shelves behind the desk, only to shock poor students! - she called, “Severus? Are you there?”

“I’m in the lab!” the dark voice of the potion master answered.

Minerva had always thought that his voice was his best feature, but when she reached the open door leading to his lab, she had to admit that the summer break had done him good. Standing over a boiling cauldron, for once he wasn’t wearing his usual dramatic black robes, but a white shirt and black trousers. His shoulder length hair was bound back in a ponytail and it didn’t look greasy, but shimmered like a raven’s wing in the light of the candles over his workspace.

“Minerva.” A slight bow of his head, then he directed his gaze back at his potion.

Minerva crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m going to Diagon Alley,” she announced.

Snape’s head came up and for a moment an emotion flickered over his features. “Where’s Albus?” he asked. He knew that Minerva wouldn’t inform him of her leaving if she didn’t want him to take over the responsibility for the castle. And that meant that the Headmaster wasn’t there.

“At the moment he’s probably still at the Ministry,” Minerva answered. “He had to attend a meeting of the Wizengamot. Afterwards he’ll have to go to see a Muggle parent.”

One of Severus Snape’s fine, black eyebrows came up. “Muggle parents,” he snorted. “I’m glad I don’t have to deal with them much.”

Knowing his aversion to her Gryffindors - and Gryffindor had always been the house with the highest share of Muggleborns - Minerva found this comment surprisingly mild. Nevertheless she couldn’t resist paying him back. With a rather cool smile she said, “In this special case the Muggle mother could become an obligation of yours, Severus. Her son is a halfblood and, as Albus told me, rather an introverted one. That could make him a Slytherin.”

“Hmph!” Snape snorted, and took a long spoon from his work desk. Stirring his potion he asked, “Something else?”

“Yes,” Minerva answered. “Albus’ new secretary will probably move in later today. Hagrid is helping her with her luggage, so she won’t need you. But if you see her - try to play nice, will you? We don’t want her to be shocked on her first day here.”

“I’m not nice!” Severus Snape said firmly.

“I know, Severus. But you’re a Slytherin. That makes you able to pretend, doesn’t it? And Albus’ new secretary is a nice person.”

Pulling his wand out, Severus extinguished the fire under his cauldron with one wave. Without looking at Minerva he repeated, “A nice person - hmm. Let me guess, you persuaded our dear headmaster to hire a Gryffindor?”

“Wrong,” Minerva responded crisply. “Delenn March - that’s the name of the secretary - wasn’t a Hogwarts student. She attended Blocksberg.”

“She’s a German?” Severus asked amazed.

“Yes, but she’s married to an English wizard and has lived in England for 14 years. Her husband works as a historian for the Ministry. He’s in Egypt for a year; therefore she’ll be living at Hogwarts.

“I wonder if this husband knows that his wife is coming here,” Severus snorted. “I wouldn’t let mine work alone with Albus Dumbledore for a year.”

Minerva pursed her lips. “You make it sound as if our Headmaster is after every skirt!”

“Isn’t he?” Severus’ dark eyes glimmered as if he’d amused himself very much.

Minerva raised her chin. “I don’t think it appropriate to discuss our superior’s private life behind his back.”

“You probably don’t find it appropriate that he’s having a love life at all!” Severus promptly shot back.

Minerva looked at him as if he were something that should be kept in one of the jars in his office. “You know,” she said then, her voice sounding very chilly, “about one thing I’m absolutely certain. My love life will never be a concern of yours. And now you’ll have to excuse me. I have an appointment in Diagon Alley and I don’t wish to be late.” She turned and almost regretted that her light summer robe didn’t make the same whirling effect as the emerald teaching robe she normally wore. She didn’t make it through the door. Just as she crossed the threshold, she heard quick steps and the velvet baritone of the potion master.

“Minerva - please.”

She turned once again, looking at him. For the first time since she’d known the young Slytherin, he seemed to feel awkward. “Yes, Severus?”

He studied the tips of his perfectly polished black boots. “I’m sorry, Minerva,” he murmured. “I didn’t mean to make you angry.”

Minerva had to keep herself from gaping at him like a carp out of its pond. In the history of the battles she’d fought with the potion master, the argument they just had would only count as a minor skirmish, so she was more then a little surprised to receive an apology. Swallowing she asked, “Are you well, Severus?”

It obviously was her day for surprises. Around the Slytherin’s small month something like a smile surfaced. “Yes, Minerva. I’m fine. But I won’t keep you away from your appointment. Oh …,” now he was almost blushing, his pale cheeks becoming pink, “… by the way, you or Albus - one of you will be back in the evening, won’t you?”

Minerva simply couldn’t resist. “Do you have a dinner date, Severus?”

Now he really blushed! The pink became red which made him look young and vulnerable. “Yes,” he answered. And then his usual sneer was back. “As much as it may amaze you, Minerva, I do indeed have a dinner date.”

After more than 25 years with him Minerva knew that Severus Snape’s life never had been an easy one. He hadn’t become a hard and bitter man without reason and as difficult she frequently found it to deal with him, she couldn’t really blame him for keeping to the principle, “Bite before you get bitten.” So she smiled warmly at him. “Severus, I’m not amazed, but glad. And I promise I’ll be back around six. Will that be early enough for you?”

He bowed his head again. “Thank you, Minerva. And have a nice afternoon.”

“The same to you, Severus!”


Minerva smiled to herself as she walked up to the Entrance hall. Severus Snape certainly wasn’t her favourite colleague, but she respected him. He’d shown himself to be an exceptionally brave man during the war, and Minerva was well aware that the Order wouldn’t have had a chance against Voldemort if the potion master hadn’t risked his life collecting information. Besides, she knew that Albus cared deeply for the young man. For him Severus was something like a son. He would be happy to hear that his dark child was finally coming out of his self-proclaimed exile in the Hogwarts’ dungeons. Falling in love would certainly do him a lot of good, wouldn’t it?

The only question was, who was the woman Severus would be having dinner with? Minerva - as most witches in Great Britain probably - knew that Severus Snape was a master of understatement. He liked to act the simple teacher, but even if he had needed to live from his earnings at Hogwarts, he wouldn’t have been poor. Among the European magical schools, Hogwarts was known for a certain “snobbism”, only hiring qualified masters and mistresses for the important positions. But as big an honour as it was to become a member of the Hogwarts staff, the honour alone wouldn’t have netted the school the elite. The generous salary certainly counted too - with the exception of one Severus Snape. He was the heir and only offspring of a pureblood family so old and wealthy that even - as Albus had once remarked - the Dumbledores as descendants of the legendary sorcerer Merlin looked “like parvenus” compared to the Snapes.

Severus had everything that a wizard could wish for - a big mansion in Yorkshire; a magnificent house in London; an apartment in Paris; a summer villa in Spain; a winery in Italy and more money than he ever would be able to spend. But the only thing that would have really mattered during his childhood, he’d never received: Love.

His father - Albus had once stated that he only reason Tiberius Snape had become neither a follower of Grindelwald nor Voldemort had been that he would never have accepted the role of a subordinate. He had believed himself superior to everyone, and if it hadn’t been for his dislike of every other human being he’d probably have become a dark lord himself. Instead, he’d become an evil, cruel and heartless wizard, and thus his wife and only son had suffered a great deal.

Who was the woman Severus was courting? It wasn’t curiosity that made Minerva think about it, but worry. The social standing of her young colleague was difficult. On the one hand he was wealthy, a Hogwarts professor, and a decorated war hero. On the other hand he was a former Death Eater. For most people in the magical world the last mattered much more than everything else. And with Severus as he was - sarcastic, sour and distant with almost everybody - the chance that the mistake he’d made as a very young man would ever be forgiven and forgotten by society was very small.

So what kind of woman would date Severus? Minerva saw two possibilities. In the best case it was a woman strong and independent enough not to care about Snape’s reputation. In the worst case it was one who thought his money would make up for it.

Minerva very much hoped it was one of the first. She really didn’t want to imagine what an unhappy relationship would result from someone who was already as disappointed and bitter as Severus.


Apparating to the little park at the end of Diagon Alley, Minerva energetically shoved thoughts of the potion master’s love life to the back of her mind. The next hour belonged to her. The list of items needed for the staff room, until now always Minerva’s responsibility, already lay on the desk of Albus’ new secretary. For once Minerva wouldn’t have to buy things for the school, only what she needed and wanted. Walking through the crowd she suddenly found herself in front of the window of “Madame Juliette” - a shop for lingerie and nightwear she hadn’t been to until now. Living in Scotland, in an old castle with cold stone floors and high-ceilinged, always chilly halls meant that Minerva wore sensible, warm underwear and long, voluminous flannel nightshirts.

But there in the window was a negligee - rather flimsy silk with the upper part made from lace - in a beautiful burgundy red. Minerva couldn’t help imagining how the silk would feel on her skin - and with Albus’ skilled hands gliding over it. He would like it, about that she was sure. She certainly would enjoy seeing his eyes when she slipped out of her outer robe, revealing this negligee. When he was aroused, the blue of his eyes became even more intense, reminding her of the sea in Cornwall. She loved having this effect on him, so she marched into the shop and, for once not minding the amount of money she had to spend, bought not only the burgundy luxury, but a black lacy bra too.

From “Madame Juliette” Minerva’s way led to the bookshop, but with a little stop at the “Gentlewizard” where she found a pair of blue socks with moving, smiling yellow suns on it. She actually thought them too bright, but she knew how fond Albus was of extravagant socks and she wanted to give him something he would like.

The bookshop, another stop at the corner where ink, quills and parchment were sold, and then she almost had to run because she was late for her appointment at Florean Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlor. When she arrived there - a bit out of breath because she’d hurried so much - Hermione Granger, former Gryffindor Head Girl and always a favourite student of Minerva’s, already sat at one of the little tables under one of the red and yellow striped sun shades. She was - true to her reputation as a bookworm - reading, but as soon as she saw her former teacher, she put her book in her bag and, smiling brightly, rose and waved, “Professor McGonagall!”

Minerva, approaching the table, took her former student’s hand and greeted her cordially, “Miss Granger - how nice to see you!” Studying the girl in front of her, she smiled. “You’re looking lovely.”

And indeed, since she’d left school three years ago Hermione Granger had developed nicely. She still wasn’t a breathtaking beauty, but her formerly very bushy hair was cut short and framed her small, clear face nicely now. More importantly, Minerva had always found the intelligence and energy the young woman radiated enchanting.

Sitting down next to the girl, Minerva registered that Hermione obviously was nervous. Normally not clumsy, she almost made her coffee cup fall from the table and as she caught it, Minerva saw that her fingers were trembling.

She waited until host Florean Fortescue had taken up their orders, and then she laid her hand on the girl’s. “Miss Granger - what’s bothering you?”

Two cinnamon eyes were looking almost pleadingly at her. “Wouldn’t you like to call me ‘Hermione’, Professor? I’m not your student anymore and,” she blushed, “I mean, I don’t want to be impudent, but … oh, it’s all so complicated!” She looked as if she’d start crying at any moment.

Once again Minerva asked, “What’s bothering you?” but this time she added a soft “Hermione” to it.

“You know, Professor McGonagall, you were always something like a second mother to me,” the girl said. “I mean, I have a mother and she’s wonderful, but she’s a Muggle and sometimes it’s difficult to explain things to her. She doesn’t know much about the war and how afraid I often was and I actually think it’s better she didn’t know because she would have worried so much, but …”

Now Hermione Granger needed to breathe and Minerva used the break to say, “A teacher really shouldn’t favour pupils, but I can’t deny that I was always rather fond of you. So I feel honoured that you see me as a second mother.”

Hermione squeezed her hand. “Thank you, Professor. I need your advice so much and …,” her eyes were pleading again, “I think I need your help. I’m in a very difficult situation. I feel as if I need to choose between the man I love and my friends.”

“That’s sounds like a terrible conflict indeed,” Minerva said. “I would be glad if I could help you out, but I’d really like to hear the entire story. It would make it easier to give you advice.”

A waiter came with the coffee and the ice cream Minerva and Hermione had ordered. Minerva paid, Hermione thanked her and, digging her spoon into the ice cream, she said quietly, “You probably won’t like the story. But you’d learn about it in any case, so it’s better I tell you myself.”

Minerva sipped at her coffee. “You make me curious.”

“Okay, then …” Hermione smiled awkwardly, breathed deeply and finally began, “You know, I really never liked boys very much. I mean Ron and Harry are my friends and I’m very fond of them, but I could never imagine falling in love with one of them or one of the other boys at school. I always was more into older men and so it happened that I fell in love with a man who could be my father.”

Minerva smiled. “So young? I was around your age when I fell for a man who was 70 years my senior. He could easily have been my grandfather. So - how much older than you is your gentleman?”

Hermione obviously felt already a bit better. “He’s 42 years old,” she said. “That makes him 22 years my senior.”

Minerva looked at her - and suddenly she knew it. She was aware that the one she was thinking about certainly wasn’t the only unmarried 42 year old wizard in England, but she nevertheless was almost sure. Slowly she asked, “Do you intend to marry Severus Snape?”

Hermione’s jaw dropped. “How did you know? Did the Headmaster tell you?”

Minerva raised an eyebrow. “The Headmaster knows?”

Now Hermione was blushing. “Yes. He was very much involved.” Seeing Minerva’s curious gaze, she proceeded, “He was the one who gave me the advice to ask Severus when I was stuck with a project. The potion master at the College wasn’t really helpful, and while I was searching for information in the library I met the headmaster, told him about my problem - and he said I should write a letter to Severus. He certainly would help me.” As always when Hermione was nervous, she was talking like a waterfall. “And so I did and Severus answered and we met and we talked and I found him not only helpful, but fascinating and I fell in love with him and felt that he liked me too, but he didn’t make a move and I thought I could hardly make a pass at him - I mean, he’s such a conservative Slytherin and I was afraid he probably wouldn’t like a woman being assertive. So I was very unhappy and decided to ask the headmaster for help. He invited me for the Yule ball - you remember? He was so sweet and supportive and encouraging. And in the end I told Severus that I want to be kissed by him and he really kissed me and since then we’ve been an item. Now we’ve spent the summer together and I think it’s time to tell my family and friends. Yet I know that Harry and Ron can’t stand Severus. They were always speaking badly of him, so once again I asked Professor Dumbledore if he had any idea how to tell Ron and Harry without them getting totally angry at Severus.”

Once again Minerva used Hermione’s break for breathing to chime in, “Let me guess, the Headmaster’s advice was to ask me if I’d talk to your friends?”

“Yes!” Hermione almost cried in relief. “He said he would do it himself, but his relationship with Harry is still a bit tense and besides - he’s a Slytherin too. The boys would certainly say that Slytherins always stick together …”

Minerva sighed. “I think it’s time the gentlemen grew up at last. The Headmaster certainly made a few mistakes in regard to Mister Potter, but under the circumstances he hadn’t many other options. But back to your relationship with Severus Snape: Do you already have plans for your future?”

“Yes!” Hermione nodded. “Severus asked me to marry him as soon as I’m done with my doctorate. That’s next year in summer. But I don’t want to wait so long. I’m sure about our love and I think Severus needs to have someone who belongs to him and who stands up to him.” Now she wasn’t looking like a girl anymore, but like a woman who was proud and confident in her love.

Minerva was very proud of her. Smiling tenderly she said, “I saw Severus before I came here and he mentioned that he would be having a dinner date. On my way here I was worrying about the woman he’d be with. I’m glad it’s you. Only,” she became serious again, “I think you’ve chosen a difficult man. I know he’s an honourable, brave and decent one, and he’s certainly able to become a loyal and faithful husband. Yet he isn’t quite Prince Charming.”

Hermione laughed. “No, certainly not. He’s sarcastic, stubborn, proud, and sometimes he drives me crazy. But he’s the most interesting man I’ve ever met - perhaps with the exception of the Headmaster. And Severus takes me seriously and we have a lot of interests in common. He doesn’t talk about quidditch all the time, but about really fascinating things and although he’s a man, he’s able to listen …”

Minerva emptied her cup of coffee and signalled to the waiter for a refill. Leaning back she said, “So you want to marry him sooner rather than later?”

“Yes.” The young woman nodded once again. “We want to marry during the Christmas break.”

“That sounds wonderful. Will you move to Hogwarts then?” Minerva asked.

“Only for the weekends. During the week I’ll be at Oxford to work on my projects. But,” Hermione was chewing at her bottom lip, “as soon as I’m done with my doctorate, I’d like to do an apprenticeship.”

“Ah?” Minerva looked amused. It sounded in her voice as she proceeded. “I suppose you’d like to do your apprenticeship at Hogwarts. But there are two transfiguration masters. Which one would you want to have as your master?”

Hermione Granger didn’t need to think about it. Promptly she answered, “You! I mean, Professor Dumbledore is brilliant too, but …” she fell silent and blushed.

Minerva smiled. “I know. The Headmaster is a great transfiguration master, but for the last several years he’s been busy with so many other things that he has lost touch with the academic part of our discipline a bit. Yet he’s still exceptionally creative. When you become my apprentice - and I’d feel honoured to teach you again - I’ll ask him to work with you too. There’s a lot you can learn from him. Besides, he does a lot of things which would be worth some deeper research and analysis.”

Hermione Granger’s eyes were beaming now. “Severus mentioned that Professor Dumbledore would be able to do liquid transformation. Did he say that right?”

Minerva nodded. “Yes. It’s fascinating. I wish I had the time to do some research on it. Albus says it would be a rather simple variation on cellular transformation.”

“Really?” Hermione was playing absently with her ice cream and Minerva almost laughed out loud. One could almost hear how the wheels in the young woman’s mind were turning. “I’ve already thought in this direction and read about the connecting of two spells. But I couldn’t find anything about connections working with liquids. Dashakov was at the problem, but he wrote that a connection strong enough to work would be uncontrollable.” Suddenly looking disappointed she finished, “It probably needs a wizard of Professor Dumbledore’s power to control such a spell combination. But that would mean that we can’t develop it to a standard.”

“I don’t think so,” Minerva disagreed. “Albus doesn’t work with two, but with three spells. And that means that less strength is needed for each step, so the entire process becomes more easy to control.”

“Brilliant! I’d love to work on that!” Hermione sounded delighted.

“You will - after you’ve become Doctor Snape. Or do you intend to keep your maiden name?” Minerva smiled.

“No,” Hermione shook her head. “Normally I would, but in this case - no. I think Severus needs to be shown that I’m proud to be his wife. And I always will be - even if my friends won’t speak to me anymore. I’d hate losing them, but if it turns out to be the price I’ll have to pay for Severus, I’ll pay it without complaint. However, the Headmaster says that wouldn’t be the best start for our marriage because Severus would feel guilty about me losing my friends. Severus agrees with him. He says he would hate it if I had to sacrifice something dear to me for him. He doesn’t want to make my life poorer, but richer.”

“He loves you, Hermione,” Minerva said. “And the more I hear about your relationship, the better I like it.” Patting the girl’s hand, she proceeded, “Tomorrow I’ll send the Messieurs Potter and Weasley R. an owl. I’ll invite them to tea - perhaps I’ll be able to tell them about your relationship without their …” She stopped in mid sentence because her gaze had fallen upon a little group of Muggles that just had come out of “Ollivander’s”, the wandmaker’s shop on the opposite side of the street.

They obviously had just bought a wand - the first one for the dark haired boy who was the centre of the group. He was beaming with pride, but it obviously wasn’t only the wand that made him almost jump for joy, but the three adults he was with. His eyes wandered from his mother - a pretty blonde in a dark red business suit who looked as if she found Diagon Alley rather overwhelming - to his father, who wore his grey suit as if he weren’t used to Muggle clothing.

Yet the person who’d caught Minerva’s eye was the one just bending down to talk with the boy. From where she sat, Minerva could only see his short, white hair; the collar of a light blue, silken shirt; the muscular back in a dark blue suit - fine wool, perfectly cut. His demeanour showed self-confidence and pride - and there was something familiar about him.

Before Minerva’s mind could make out what it was, her heart had already started to hammer in her chest like mad. Her palms were sweating, and she was very glad that she was sitting because her knees suddenly seemed to be made of jelly.

“Wow!” Minerva heard Hermione’s voice as if through a thick fog. “I didn’t know the headmaster looked so great without his beard and the long hair!” Minerva couldn’t answer. Her mouth was dry and she was afraid her voice would tremble like her hands. But Hermione obviously didn’t expect an answer. She’d stood up and was waving now, “Professor Dumbledore!”

Albus raised a hand, his blue eyes behind round Muggle glasses cheerfully twinkling, “Hello, ladies! I’ll be with you in a minute!”

Hermione sat down again. Looking at Minerva, she asked worriedly, “Professor McGonagall? Are you okay? You’re suddenly so pale!”

Minerva needed all her discipline to kick herself out of her stupor. Swallowing she forced herself to smile at her young companion. “Sorry, Miss Granger - I just got a bit distracted.” In fact, she felt like she’d been hit by a stunner. Her heart was still beating so hard it almost hurt, and although she wanted to look away, she couldn’t tear her eyes from Albus, who was now bidding his farewell to the Muggle woman and her companions.

It wasn’t first time Minerva had seen Albus in a suit and with short hair and yes, she’d known that he made a handsome Muggle, though she liked him better when he wore robes. But now - now … no, it wasn’t the suit. It wasn’t that he looked strange. It was that he - despite the Muggle suit and the short hair - looked so familiar, that she knew so exactly what was hidden under the blue fabric and that she longed to embrace him, to let her fingers glide over his smooth skin, to be close to him, to lay her head on his chest and hear the beating of his heart, and that this longing for him was like an ache deep within her.

Now he strode across the street and approached the table, smiling down at the two women. Minerva could smell his unique fragrance and her eyes met his. He immediately seemed to notice that she wasn’t her usual collected self and bending down, he laid his hand on her shoulder. “Minerva? Are you well?”

“Yes, of course,” Minerva lied, sounding sharper than she’d intended. But at the moment she really didn’t like that he could see through her so.

Yet it made him immediately realize that she didn’t want to be examined like that. Briefly squeezing her shoulder, he directed his eyes to Hermione. “Miss Granger - how nice to see you!”

“Would you like to have coffee with us?” Hermione asked.

“Oh, I’d love to.” He sat down on the third chair at the table. “And in the proud conscience of duty done, I’ll even treat myself to a big chocolate sundae,” he announced.

Hermione laughed. “Severus says your liking for sweets is one of the constants in his universe.”

“And I always thought his dislike of Gryffindors would be one of mine,” Albus gave back cheerfully.

“Is your picture of the world shattered now?” Hermione asked amused. “Yet I don’t think Severus and I are the only exception to the rule that Gryffindors and Slytherins can’t get along. Professor McGonagall and you aren’t exactly at each other’s throats all the time either.”

Albus cocked his head and lowered his voice. “That’s only because Professor McGonagall doesn’t allow me to! I think she’s got a very appetizing throat. I’d like very much to be at it all the time.”

Once again Minerva swallowed. For years she’d been used to his joking. Why did it suddenly hurt? Why was she suddenly wishing that he’d tell the girl that they were more than colleagues and friends? They had agreed they wouldn’t make their private relationship public knowledge and heavens - one didn’t talk about one’s affairs!

Only that it suddenly didn’t feel like an affair anymore. Being so close to him that she could feel his warmth made her aware that her feelings for him had changed. And honest as she always was with herself, she had to confess it now: She had fallen in love with Albus Dumbledore. It wasn’t only friendship and desire she felt looking at him or thinking of him. It was more, much more - a deep longing for his closeness, a need to make him smile - and when he was smiling at her, it felt like he’d given her a precious gift.

She didn’t know when it had happened. But now she couldn’t deny it any longer - she was in love with him. She’d fallen for her best friend - so hard she didn’t know how to come up again.

He was talking with Hermione, but Minerva couldn’t follow their conversation. The cheerful voices almost hurt her. How could they chatter and laugh and tease each other when she was feeling as if her entire world had fallen apart? How could he eat ice cream when her stomach had become a tight, aching knot?

She couldn’t bear it. She needed to be alone. She needed to think, to sort out what she was feeling; she had to find a way to deal with this love she hadn’t wished for and was so afraid of.

Standing up, she cleared her throat. “Would you please excuse me? I…,” she searched for words, unused as she was to lying. “I’ve forgotten something.” She knew she sounded lame, but she couldn’t help it.

Albus obviously didn’t believe her. He’d risen himself and was looking in her eyes, now very serious again. “What’s the matter, Minerva? Are you unwell?”

“No, Albus!” She hated to sound so hysterical and tried to calm herself down. “I’m fine, really. I only have to go.”

“May I accompany you?” he asked.

“No! Don’t fuss, Albus! I’m fine!” Minerva repeated. “I only need to,” she breathed deeply, “go.”

Now Albus looked really worried - and a bit helpless. “Well …” Another look in her eyes. “I’ll see you at Hogwarts then?”

“Of course,” Minerva forced herself to smile at him, but was aware that she only managed a grimace. “We’ll see each other later.” Turning to Hermione, who’d watched the conversation out of big eyes, she said, “I’ll owl you as soon as I’ve spoken with Mister Potter and Mister Weasley.”

“But you don’t have to hurry, Professor McGonagall. It’s not so urgent.” The girl had risen too, and in a spontaneous gesture she hugged Minerva, kissing her cheek. “Thank you, Professor McGonagall. You’re wonderful.”

Minerva kissed her back. “I hope you’ll be very happy with Severus,” she said.


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


Albus was worried. It was ten after eight, dinner was waiting on the table, candles and a fire were burning, soft music was flooding the room and he was freshly shaved, showered and back in a robe. Only Minerva wasn’t there. Albus couldn’t remember when she’d last been late for an appointment, if ever. And her behaviour at Diagon Alley - she’d looked so lost, as if something really bad had happened to her. Obviously something had hit her hard. Only he couldn’t imagine what it had been. Hermione Granger, worried too about Minerva’s odd exit, had told him that her former teacher hadn’t behaved unusually in any until he’d come along. “You know Professor McGonagall is never very talkative, but until you came I thought her in a rather good mood,” she’d said.

What had happened to Minerva? Albus had lost his appetite after she was gone and he’d only picked at his chocolate sundae before he’d apparated back to Hogwarts too. Upon returning there his first gaze had gone up to the top of the main tower where a stone knight stood, holding a pole with a flag. It always showed the colour of the highest authority in residence. When Albus was in the castle the flag was white with the Hogwarts crest in the middle. But this evening the flag was red - Gryffindor burgundy red. That meant that Minerva was in. Albus had registered it with relief, but he’d enjoyed it only for a few minutes. Then, reaching the entrance hall, he’d met his potion master, who’d been on his way to London, but glad to see Albus.

“I’m afraid, Minerva is furious with me,” he’d said. “Hermione met her in Diagon Alley to tell her about our relationship. Your Deputy obviously wasn’t too delighted. I thought she’d come to release me from deputizing, but she only sent a house elf to announce that she was back.”

Albus had calmed his friend and colleague. “I met Hermione and Minerva in Diagon Alley and I assure you, Minerva isn’t upset with you. I’m afraid she’s cross with me.”

“What did you do to her?” Severus had asked.

Albus had shrugged his shoulders. “Believe it or not, I don’t have the slightest clue. But knowing Minerva, I’m sure I’ll learn soon.”


Obviously he didn’t know her as well as he’d thought. It was fifteen after eight now and he was pacing around his dining room like tiger in his cage. Passing the perch where Fawkes was sitting for the umpteenth time, Albus stopped his pacing. “It seems we’ve both run out of luck with the ladies, old friend. Your bird isn’t interested in a steady relationship with you, and mine…” he sighed. “If I only knew what happened to her! Standing me up isn’t her style, it’s really not.”

Fawkes cocked his head, looked at his master out of melancholy eyes and trilled a sad note. Albus sighed again. “You’re probably right, Fawkes. In contrast to you I haven’t been kicked out yet. So I will go down and look for her.”

Fawkes obviously liked this idea. He affectionately nibbled on Albus’ ear for a moment, then put his head back under his wing.

“Well, that’s that then. How goes the saying? If the mountain doesn’t come to the prophet, the prophet has to go to the mountain,” Albus murmured, walking to the door.


Gryffindor tower was next to the Main tower, and as Headmaster Albus actually didn’t need a password to open a door in the castle. But manners forbade him to enter Minerva’s chambers without being invited, so he knocked and waited. A few seconds later a very pale Minerva opened the door, looking wearily at him. “Albus.” Her voice sounded flat. “I’m sorry I stood you up, but I needed to think.”

“Oh?” He raised an eyebrow. “Dinner’s waiting, Minerva.”

She breathed deeply. “Albus, I’m afraid I’ve lost my appetite. But would you come in for a moment? There’s something I need to tell you.”

Slowly Albus entered her living room. He felt an odd grumbling in his stomach and something almost like anger. Why were women always so unpredictable? Only a few hours before she’d been all gentleness, but now she was looking at him as if he was the last person on earth she wanted to talk with. “What’s the matter, Minerva?” he asked, sounding sharper than he’d intended. “You’re behaving rather oddly.”

She walked through the room to the fireplace where she bent down, rubbing her hands together. Without looking at him, she said slowly, “It’s actually rather ironic. Something that most people would see as a happy occurrence means the worst for you and me.” Turning to him she looked up at him, her green eyes dark and sad. “What did you say? For two adult people it should be possible to keep a professional and a private relationship separate - even if the private relationship is rather intimate. Or was, as the case is going to be. We can prove now that you were right.”

Albus had spent the last three hours thinking about what he possibly could have done to anger or disappoint Minerva, but he still didn’t have any idea. Sighing he admitted, “Minerva, I’m afraid I don’t understand what you’re talking about. As far as I know we were supposed to have dinner and as far as I know we were both looking forward to it. What have I done to change that?”

Minerva sat down on the chair in front of the fireplace, looking very tired. Folding her hands in her lap, she looked down at them and started to speak again. “You’ve done nothing, Albus. It’s not your fault, but rather mine. I’ve probably done the most critical thing in a relationship with you. I’ve fallen in love with you.” Now she looked up at him, her eyes almost hostile. “I didn’t want it, Albus. Certainly not. And I’m sorry. I know it makes you feel uncomfortable. But I can’t help it.” She sounded sarcastic and bitter.

Albus felt like he’d been hit by a bludger. He couldn’t help feeling hurt by her tone, although he knew that she didn’t mean to accuse him. She’d never used sarcasm as a weapon against him, but sometimes when she was really desperate she buried her misery under it. Being sarcastic was her way of keeping herself from crying. He’d learned that in the weeks after she’d lost her husband. But then he’d always been able to break through the wall she’d built around her grief and pain. He’d always been able to pull her in his arms to comfort her, and he’d always felt that she wanted to be close to him.

But now he couldn’t embrace her. He couldn’t even look at her. Slowly he said, “You know I’m very fond of you …”

“Yes, Albus, I know.” Minerva answered calm and very distant. “But being fond isn’t the same as loving someone, is it?”

His knees felt weak. He sank down in the chair next to her, balling his trembling hands to fists. “No, it isn’t. I know. And I’m terribly sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, Albus. You didn’t promise me anything.” She put her spectacles down, pulled her handkerchief out and started to clean her glasses as if it were the most important task imaginable. “Actually, you could blame me now. The complication of love wasn’t part of our agreement.”

“Minerva!” Now Albus looked at her again. “If there’s someone to blame then it’s me - for my inability to love and - even more - because I should have foreseen this development. I should have known better.”

“You should have foreseen that I would fall for you?” Minerva put her spectacles up again. “You mean a woman can’t get close to you without falling in love?”

“Minerva - please!” Her words had gone through him like a knife. “I didn’t mean it like that. But I should have known you better. You’re a woman who always feels very deeply. Your passion - it probably is always connected to love. Pure sexual attraction wouldn’t be enough for you - that was what I wanted to say and that’s what I should have thought about before …”

Minerva breathed deeply. “I don’t know, Albus - and to be honest, at the moment I don’t even want to think about it. I’ll have to sort that out, but not now. Now I’d really like to know how we’re going to handle this situation.”

“This situation …” Albus repeated slowly. “I didn’t want us to become ‘a situation’.”

“I’m terribly sorry, Albus, but it seems the world doesn’t always run as you’d like it,” Minerva said impatiently. “And as inconvenient this ‘situation’” she almost spat the word out, “may be for you - at the moment I feel unable to console you about it.”

He swallowed. He couldn’t remember when she’d ever lashed out at him like that and it hurt like hell. Yet he couldn’t blame her. Looking in the fire he asked, “What do you suggest we do?” It felt very odd to talk about their relationship as if it were school business.

“I need distance, Albus,” Minerva answered promptly. She obviously had already thought about this. “Actually I would like to go away for a while!”

“No!” He was on his feet again, pacing up and down. “Minerva, I understand you need to be alone, but you can’t go away. The term starts in a few days. Hogwarts needs you.”

“Hogwarts needs me,” she repeated. “I actually think Hogwarts could do for a few weeks without me. The new assistant could teach the first, second and third years, you could take over the older students - you’ve done that before and you always say you miss teaching.”

“No, Minerva,” Albus said once again. “As your friend I understand you’d like to go away for a while, but as Hogwarts’ Headmaster I can’t grant you time off at the start of a term. You know …”

She didn’t let him finish. Raising an eyebrow, she asked, her voice very chilly now, “You’re pulling rank on me, Headmaster?”

“I hate to do so, but you’re forcing me,” he declared. “We agreed to keep our private and professional relationship apart. I must ask you now to keep to this agreement.”

Minerva bowed her head, once again looking at her hands in her lap. For a few seconds she was silent, then she cleared her throat. “Well - I did agree. So,” she raised her head again and laughed bitterly, “let’s behave like adults. It’s my fault, so I’ll have to see how I pull through.”

“Minerva …” Albus wanted to take her hand, but he knew that she wouldn’t like it. So he only looked at her. “I’d so like to help you.”

“Of course,” Minerva nodded, sounding ironic once again. “You don’t incidentally know the recipe for falling out of love with you? How does it normally work? I mean there are a lot of women out there who’ve already gone through that. Did one of them ever tell you how she handled it?” Now a tear was running down her cheek.

Albus felt absolutely helpless and he hated it. All his magic, all his power, all his experience, all his cleverness - nothing was of any use now. Nothing that he could do would comfort the woman who was now silently crying. “Minerva …” he pulled his handkerchief out and offered it to her. “Here - take this.”

“Thank you, but I have my own.” She was blowing her nose already and then, swallowing, she said, “I’d like to be alone now, Albus.”

“Yes, of course.” He rose up, putting his handkerchief back in his pocket. “I’m really sorry, Minerva. I hate to have hurt you.”

She didn’t answer, so he slowly walked to the door. As he’d just reached it, he heard her voice, very quiet and sad, “You didn’t hurt me, Albus. It’s not your fault that you can’t love me. And as lousy as it feels at the moment - I’m nevertheless glad that we had this time together. You made me feel like a woman again and you showed me that I’m still able to love. For this I’m grateful.”

Although his throat suddenly seemed so tight that even breathing had become difficult, he had to tell her something. Turning around he said, his voice very hoarse now, “Minerva, I would so like to return your feelings. You’re everything a man could wish for in a woman and I’d love to be the one who makes you as happy as you deserve. But I can’t. If I were to try, you would become even more miserable. And in the end you’d definitely hate me.”

Minerva nodded slowly. “You don’t have to justify yourself, Albus. I knew what I was getting into.” Closing her eyes and leaning her head back, she whispered, “Good night, Albus.”


To be continued …

(1) Always changeable and whimsical is woman