The rumour mill could be considered a finely honed machine. No matter what else may be happening, no matter how busy or stressed people are, the mill grinds on, passing information at speeds incomprehensible to man. There were days when Albus delighted in the efficiency of the system, and other days, such as today, when he cursed it and the accuracy of the information with every fiber of his being. His heels clicked loudly in the halls as students flung themselves against the walls to clear the way. If he had heard, so had they, and he was in no mood to indulge their curiosity. He could only image what they were thinking, and it only spurred him on, his heart hammering against his ribs.

In the six months since she had returned, things had changed, but not in the way he had hoped. She was still perfectly polite when they met, her eyes still held a glow when she thought he wasn't looking, but she was different; they were different. She hadn't touched him again after that first embrace, hadn't been alone with him unless it involved school business, and the weight loss and pitch black circles under her eyes spoke of weeks, not days, of sleepless nights. More than once, he had wandered toward her classroom after the last bell, hoping to talk to her, only to find her curled over her desk, sobbing. His own pain and uncertainty kept him away and with every new incident, his own self-loathing increased, widening the gap between them.

He turned the corner, nearly bowling over a group of fifth years as his mind flashed to a month prior. She had refused to give up her seat beside him, and meals became a daily battle of wills and resolve. Only this one day, the lines were broken. Neither had noticed as they spoke with the others around them. It wasn't until Albus went to reach for his tea cup that he realized Minerva had grabbed his hand. Her knuckles were white and her nails bit into the skin as she gripped him. When he gave the hand a squeeze, pleased beyond belief at the movement, Minerva started, and her head swung around. Both stopped breathing as the moment played out, her eyes widening as she took in the scene. She went to pull away, her cheeks pale, and he grasped her harder, begging. His heart wrenched in his chest at the pain in her eyes and the minute shake of her head. He released her, letting his fingers take in the texture of her skin as they skimmed away, still amazed at the softness of her. He refused to look away, and he watched as she stared at her own hand, losing herself to a world he could never image, before she blinked and her fist balled. She was gone in a flurry of robes and vanilla.

He came to the door, watching it swing open before him, and he was brought up short by the scene before him. Minerva sat on her desk, feet hanging loosely, her hair flowing freely down her back, and wand dangling between her fingers. She sat, transfixed, by the image before her. A man, his own doppelganger, stood before her, furious and bloody. In that instant, all rational thought stopped. He had become her worst nightmare. The fifth year students had received quite the surprise when she opened the supply cupboard to retrieve the snails that morning, and woe be to whomever it was that moved the boggart from the empty third floor classroom. He shifted, the door creaked, and two pairs of eyes snapped toward him. One set grew wide as another rippled, a beard growing long, robes replacing armour. So much in the past half year had changed, but this basic fact had not. He raised his wand and gave the incantation. The boggart promptly found himself head over heels, his knobby knees exposed for all to see as his robes fell covered his face before disappearing all together.

The clatter of her wand hitting the flagstones was the only sound to be heard as both looked at the other. "I still cared for him." Her voice was soft, and Minerva was scarcely aware that she had spoken. Images, voices, smells filled her mind, choking her as they had for so many nights. "I pitied him, loathed him for what he did, what he had become, but…" she hesitated, turning her head and watched as Albus stepped further into the room. "for all that he was, and all that I hated him, I loved him…you in equal measure. He turned his back on all that we hold dear, but I couldn't help myself." A lonely tear crept down her cheek, and she didn't bother to wipe it away.

She didn't have to as Albus reached out and caught it with his thumb, touching her for the first time in so long. Both could feel the pulse of heat and longing flood them as their skin touched. He was as gentle as she was soft, warm as she was trembling. In that instant it ceased to matter; both were simply too tired to deny it any longer. He stepped between her legs, her robes brushing against him, and his arm sliding around her waist, pulling her flush against him. She fit perfectly against him just as she always had. He forced her to look him in the eye while he rested his forehead against her own. "I love you. You are my love, my life, you are my wife, and when I thought I had lost you nothing mattered anymore. A single look from you can make my heart sing, and to have lost that is incomprehensible, maddening." He felt her tremble beneath his fingers as the tears flowed freely and her fists gathered in front of his robes, securing him to her. "He lost his way in the madness love, but you helped him find his way. In the end, you were our touchstone, our home in the darkness. You saved him from himself; you helped him find that last moment of dignity. Please, Min, don't forget what he was, but don't forget what you helped him become again. Let it go love; let the pain go." She blurred as his own eyes filled with tears and her ragged breathing danced across his cheeks. She kissed him with a heartbreaking passion, with pain and anger, with love and longing. Their lips barely parted, and she kept her eyes closed. "Promise me," she begged, and neither had to ask what she meant. "Promise." His voice was as raw as hers, and the classroom door clicked shut and locked with a resounding snap.

The rain was cold and heavy as it beat down around his shoulder, clouding his glasses and chilling him to the bone. Six months had passed and the grass had grown lush and green. He crouched low, ignoring the creaking of his knees, and set the single white rose at the marble base, brushing aside the few leaves that had collected there. He blinked the rain water away as he read the headstone, the words seeming even more appropriate now than they had six months prior.

Thou man may be led astray

through fault and folly

In love may the greatest of sins be forgiven

Here lies a man, whom through love lost had greatly fallen

to rise again from the flame of love reunited.

Harry stood up, the water rolling from him, cleansing him of more than the tears leaking from his eyes. He looked to his right to the slab of shining black marble and sighed before looking down once again. It was time to go; he didn't belong there anymore. "Goodbye…Headmaster." He turned and walked away, his cloak wiping around his heels. He left the graveyard and the two people he once considered family alone to rest, together.