Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters metioned in this story and am making no money from it.

A/N: The evil little plot bunnies made me write this. Blame them!

She pushed the rusting set of keys into the pocket of her black dress. Her feet took quick, measured steps and she took a small amount of pleasure in letting the growing breeze whip strands of raven hair from the confines of her loose ponytail. It was the only happiness she had allowed herself since he had gone.

The journey itself was only a short one - five minutes at most - but, with the weight on her shoulders, it felt like an excruciating trek. Eventually, she reached the stony path leading through a perfectly manicured garden. Minerva McGonagall reached into her pocket and, with fumbling fingers, removed the ancient ring of keys. The wooden door of the small white-washed cottage opened with heartbreaking ease.

He had made this too easy.

Minerva drew in a deep breath and crossed the threshold in one large step. Immediately, the smell of lavender assaulted her nostrils. Her favourite.

He had remembered.

It was just as she remembered; his trinkets all around the room, buzzing and whirring; the warm tartan blanket draped over the arm of the sofa; low ceiling beams, grazed form years of bumped heads. This place never was suitable for the couple's height. It was just like Albus Dumbledore to choose the most unsuitable place available. Suddenly, deep in her chest she felt a pang of emotion. He was gone.

He had left her.

Running her hand across the spotless, wood-panelled walls Minerva pushed the wall of looming tears down, suppressing them inside her mind. She breathed… slowly… shakily. She breathed in life. She breathed in the very essence of him… or, at least, the man he used to be.

The light glinted from the gold band on her finger, taunting her, calling back memories she wished were not there.

"Minerva, don't be daft," he called from the other side of the flowing river. "If Janey can do it, so can you." Minerva glanced back at Albus, who was clutching their young daughter. The water was rushing so rapidly.

"Come on, Mummy. Don't be a scaredy cat." Janey smiled and stuck her little tongue out at her mother.

"Yeah, Mummy!" Albus chanted.

"Just… just wait there…" Minerva's voice was shaky. She was searching the river bed for protruding stones to step on, calculating her route across its shimmering depths. There were none.

"Just put your foot in and walk across!"

"Albus Dumbledore don't you dare start acting like this is a walk in the park!" She wasn't really angry; she was too panicked for that.

"I wouldn't dream of it, dear. We are all aware that this is a forest, not a park." As much as Minerva wanted to irately respond, the twinkle in her husband's eye stopped her dead, rendering the words forming on her tongue useless.

Minerva barely registered Albus setting their daughter on the ground with a quiet "Stay there, darling" and stepping into the river himself. Before she knew it, his hands held her by the legs and lifted her over his shoulder. It took all of two seconds (and a tiny amount of protestation from Minerva) before the pair were safely on the opposite river bank.

"See," a silky voice whispered in her ear, "that wasn't so bad at all, was it?"

The anger building up inside her stomach threatened to spill over the top. That stupid man! The insufferable… She threw the wedding ring to floor and then immediately regretted it, scooping it back up in an instant and clutching it to her chest.

"Oh, Albus," she sighed.

On the banks of an overcast Hogwarts lake, the Head Girl was lost in her own thoughts. That was, until she heard a deep voice beside her. "It is not wise to be sitting outside in this weather, Miss McGonagall."

"I have never been so pretentious as to call myself wise, Professor Dumbledore." The rain falling upon her head in thick droplets seemed to have no effect on the Seventh year girl. The Transfiguration professor could not restrain his chuckles.

"Even so, I wonder what your mother would say if we were to restrain you in the Hospital Wing with a bad case of pneumonia? You would miss an awful amount of your education."

A sly smile crossed the girl's porcelain face. "I wonder what my mother would say if she knew I wanted to become an Auror."

The Professor's eyes sparkled as he took a seat on the grassy bank beside his student. "I am sure," he said in his smooth, low tones, "that your mother will support you in whatever career you should happen to choose." The disappointment that then appeared in Minerva's face shook Albus. It stirred up a long-dormant emotion in the back of his mind. He suddenly felt the irrational need to comfort her. To hold her in his arms…

"I admire your faith, Professor, but my mother is afraid I will be killed in the War or - worse still - get horribly injured and be forced to live the remainder of my life an invalid. My mother has no sense of adventure."

"Or of patriotism, it seems." A question lingered in his mind until he felt he needed to ask it. "You are not afraid of death, Miss McGonagall?" She let out a soft, musical laugh. How hadn't he noticed that gorgeous sound before?

"At least, if I die young, I will leave a good-looking corpse." He laughed despite the chill coursing through his veins at her dark humour.

"I believe, Miss McGonagall, that you are wiser than you think."

On the pine table in the kitchen were scattered several unopened letters. Minerva sighed and picked one up. This letter, however, had no address on the front; it bore only her name. She recognised his handwriting straight away.

Minerva McGonagall stood staring up at the vast oaken doors of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The place that had once been her home, her refuge. Soon, it would be once more. Her contemplations were interrupted by a soft voice from behind her.

"Welcome back, Professor McGonagall." Albus Dumbledore greeted her warmly with an affectionate hug. His emphasis on the word 'Professor' allowed the gravity of her situation to settle upon her. She had left the Ministry. The Ministry had lost an accomplished Auror. It had been her fault. She left her dream job because HE had come along and ruined it all. HE had murdered her friends. Tom Marvolo Riddle had betrayed her.

But Albus became her saviour. He offered her a job, a stable home and his angel-like presence for as long as she needed.

"Thank you… Albus." Seventeen years since she had left Hogwarts and she still found it difficult to call him by his given name.

"You're welcome, Minerva." Seventeen years since she had left Hogwarts and he still found it difficult to call her by her given name. Their eyes met in a blissful instant, emerald green boring deep into cerulean blue. "I trust you will enjoy your time here." And, with that, he was gone.

She found him an hour later in the Headmaster's office, his quill scratching over a small piece of parchment. She watched his hand as it left behind a loopy, flowing script. She was so mesmerized by the fluid movement that she barely noticed him calling her name.

"Minerva, how may I help you?"

She felt a lump rising in her throat. 'No,' she told herself decidedly, 'you will not back down now.' "Albus," the witch's feet carried her slowly closer to his desk.

He felt a lump rising in his throat. 'Just calm down,' he told himself mentally, 'she cannot possibly feel as you do.' As she began to walk closer to him, Albus found himself mesmerized by the gentle sway of her hips.

"Albus… there is something I have been meaning to tell you for quite a while…" She could not control her legs any longer. Before she knew it, she was leaning over his desk, her heart pounding madly in her chest, her eyes gazing deep into his.

He could not help himself. She was leaning over his desk, hands spread wide apart so she could lower herself to his eye level. What else could she mean? Albus felt himself leaning forward. Closer. Closer. Her sweet breath caressing his tingling skin. They were inches apart.

Closer.

Minerva set the letter down after absorbing its contents. She had not expected a letter from him. Even less one that indicated he had known for some time that he would leave her. He knew what a state she would be in. He knew her too well. Far too well.

'You mustn't blame this on yourself! You really mustn't!' No matter how much she told herself this situation was not her fault, Minerva McGonagall could not bring herself to believe it.

James and Lily were gone.

It was times like these when she needed her family. Where were they when she needed them? 'Scattered across the bloody earth, that's where!' Three children she had and not one of them was in Britain. But Albus was.

As if her thoughts had summoned him to her, Minerva found herself very suddenly engulfed in her husband's embrace. There they stood for several minutes, in the middle of a corridor in Hogwarts. Students trickled by in dribs and drabs, casting strange glances their way before continuing up the corridor. The couple did not care. Albus felt his shoulder slowly dampening from the tears of his beloved but he would not speak. She hated when people spoke to her when she was in such a state, however rarely that may be. She hated it and hated to make her upset.

When Albus tried to shift Minerva from his grasp, noticing the small congregation of students gathering in the corridor, she clung desperately to his robes.

"Please, Albus, just tell me it isn't true… tell me James and Lily are…"

"I can't do that."

How could he know he would have to leave her? How could he face that? How could he not tell her? All of the emotion that almost half a century of marriage had borne upon Minerva slowly leaked out. She cried for the first time in months. It felt so good and so final at the same time.

Hands shaking, she tucked the letter away into her pocket, the last line spinning around and around in her head. "You don't need to hide this anymore."

He had given her permission to tell people. But, for the first time in her life, she didn't want to.

"Albus, why would it be so awful to tell people about us?" Minerva watched her feet as they moved to the music in their resting place on top of the coffee table, head tilted to the side.

"What, and have such a beautiful woman officially taken off the market? I wouldn't dream of doing that to you." He crept up behind her and placed several feather-light kisses up her neck.

Minerva was confused, "But I am officially off the market, as you so delicately put it."

"Not in the eyes of the public, my dear."

"That is exactly my point, Albus. Why can't the public know? Hell, I can't even tell my father!" She turned to face him, anger in her eyes.

"It would be dangerous. Too dangerous -"

"Yes, I know! I can't count how many times you've told me that! But I don't care! We love each other and that is all that counts!" Minerva was standing now, rounding on Albus.

"It is much bigger than that! You don't understand…"

"I understand perfectly well! You, the great Albus Dumbledore," she spat, "are scared! You are terrified of what people will think of you. You are just like everybody else. How can you profess to be a great wizard when you can't even face YOUR insecurities?"

Something snapped within Albus. His vision blurred and he never would remember him grabbing Minerva by the wrists and forcing her into the wall. He felt her writhing in his grasp.

"You don't understand! Do you want to get us both killed? Why won't you just listen to what you are told for once in your life!" She was sure that his shouts would burst her eardrums. She was breathless, unable to speak. Albus was never like this. She had induced his anger to the point where he needed to use force. What sort of woman does that to the man she loves?

"Albus… you're hurting me," she struggled. He realised what he had done and felt a stirring disgust with himself coursing through his very being. What sort of man does this to the woman he loves?

Minerva had been to the funeral, of course. But to everybody there she was no more than Albus' friend and right hand. She knew she was much more than that. Then again, the pitying looks she had been given had been enough to all but send her over the edge; if people knew about their relationship… she had no desire of being pitied, no want of being looked on as the poor widow all alone in the world.

The photographs were painful to look at. Albus, Minerva and their children, Jane, Alasia and Dorian. They would never be the same again without him.

"Father will you kindly let go of my arm and let me walk by myself!" Minerva hissed. "I am thirty-five years old, I am quite capable!"

Janus McGonagall led his eldest daughter into the living room of the family manor, ignoring her protests, where his wife, Diana, was absorbed in the latest book on Potions. At the sound of approaching footsteps, she raised her head from its pages and cast her piercing grey eyes upon her daughter.

"What have you done this time, Minerva?" she asserted in a tone caught halfway between seriousness and dry humour. Minerva winced at the raised-brow expression on her mother's face. Janus, concluding that his daughter had momentarily lost the power of speech, decided to explain the current situation.

"Our daughter, the only one with enough sense to lead a half decent life," Diana wished her husband was not so blunt over his favouritism of Minerva, but it looked like that may now be in jeopardy, "has gone and gotten herself pregnant. She's not even married yet!"

Diana's reaction was much more subtle than Janus', but Minerva registered the flicker of disappointment that fleeted across her face. She hated to disappoint people, especially her parents. "Mother, I -"

Diana held up a hand to interrupt her daughter's desperate plea.

"Are you absolutely certain?"

Minerva nodded. "Poppy double checked for me." Diana nodded slowly. Poppy Pomfrey was, under Diana's instruction, training to become a Healer and was making excellent headway.

"And do you know who the father is?" Minerva hesitated and Janus took the opportunity to air his suspicions.

"Is it that Riddle boy, because I swear if it is -"

"No, Father, it is definitely not Tom Riddle. I haven't seen him in more than two years."

"Then who is it?" Minerva's head hung low and she let out an almost inaudible murmur:

"Albus Dumbledore."

Three days later, in a park on the Eastern side of Scotland, Albus Dumbledore tried to pluck up the courage to ask a question that had recently been bearing heavily on his mind.

"Minerva… there is something I have been meaning to tell you for quite a while…" He was using the words she had used on her first day as a professor at Hogwarts, and she knew it. When she made no reply, he continued. "Every minute of the day, no matter where I am or what I am doing, you are in my mind. But I don't want you to just be in my mind. I want you to be there with me." He turned and raised himself onto one knee, plucking a small velvet box from his pocket.

"Albus… my father has gotten around to you, hasn't he? Look, I don't want you to do this."

Needless to say, Albus was suddenly very confused. She didn't want to marry him? His heart sunk at the prospect.

"I don't want you to feel like you need to marry me just because I'm pregnant."

Albus was sure his ears were deceiving him. "You're… pregnant?"

"Oh, Merlin! You didn't know?"

"We're having a baby?"

Minerva could not stand it a second longer. She all but sprinted to the door. Fumbling with the handle, she opened the door and was finally able to breathe. The floor became closer and closer as Minerva's knees buckled and she sunk into a ball outside of the cottage door.

He was gone.