Disclaimer: All due credit to the amazing Ms Rowling.

His First Mistake

He hadn't meant for it to happen. Until tonight he had resisted the temptation with every fibre of his being. It was wrong, he knew it, and yet even as he burned with shame his passion burned hotter and he could not find the strength to stop himself. Her face swam in front of him; her swollen lips parted slightly and she gasped. He could feel the tickle of her long, silken ebony hair on his legs as she threw her head back, fingernails digging into his shoulders. He knew it was wrong but wild thestrals couldn't drag him from her arms tonight.

She slept soundly. He could not sleep a wink. He lay awake trying to pinpoint the moment she had breached his defenses. She had certainly known what she was doing, he could almost believe she had planned it all. If his first mistake had been allowing her entry into his personal quarters, his second had been not to throw her out the moment he realised her intentions. He thought he could talk to her, convince her that they couldn't do this - it was impossible. In the end she had convinced him that they could.

As the sky started to lighten outside his window he knew he must wake her, must send her away. 'Minerva,' he whispered, stroking her tangled hair off her face. 'Minerva, wake up.' She moaned quietly, turning her face into his chest. 'Minerva,' he said a little more loudly, rubbing her arm. She opened her eyes at last, looking up at him sleepily. A languid smile spread across her face.

'Morning,' she murmured, lifting her head to look at the clock on his bedside table. 'It's half-past five,' she grumbled, falling back on the pillow.

'Time for you to go,' he told her, trying to be both gentle and firm.

She propped herself up on her elbow, revelling in the way his gaze fell upon her naked torso before hurriedly flicking back to her face. 'It's early and it's Saturday. No one will be up for hours,' she assured him.

'Do you understand what will happen if we get caught?' he demanded impatiently, desperately fighting the growing urge to kiss her, run his hands over her naked- Stop it! He told himself sternly. Though it may have slipped your mind last night, she is a student!

'I have no intention of getting caught, professor,' she whispered, biting her bottom lip as she ran a devious hand over his chest and stomach. He caught it before it could slip beneath the covers. She was certainly making life difficult for him. Very. Very. Difficult.

She lowered her lips to his, taking his mouth so softly, as seductively as she had last night. 'Minerva,' he warned, breaking the kiss even as he felt his desire for her stirring in him again.

'Yes, sir?' she asked innocently, a playful smile on her lips. She knew she had the upper hand. As much as he protested she knew how much he wanted her, how easily he could be persuaded; she could see it in his eyes.

'I'm your teacher - this isn't right,' he said huskily, closing his eyes against her, trying to master his feelings, but the image of her was burned onto his eyelids and no amount of imagining Professor Dippet in his underwear was going to make it go away. Not when he could smell her shampoo, the faint scent of soap on her skin, feel her thumb slowly stroking his stomach …

'But it feels right, doesn't it?' she said, gaze flickering from his eyes to his lips. She was so close he could feel her warm breath stir his moustache. She kissed him again, more forcefully this time, pulling her hand out of his to cup his face and his hand found her thigh as she wrapped one long leg over his stomach.

He meant to push her away, to force her back to her dormitory if he must, but without knowing quite how it had happened he found himself cradled between her legs, his mouth on her ivory throat, hands tangled in her silken hair and all thought wiped blissfully from his mind. He was lost.

'Homework to be handed in on Thursday,' he said as the bell rang for the end of the day's classes.

His seventh year class muttered darkly as they packed away their things. If they'd thought it couldn't get any worse than what they'd had to endure in the run up to their O.W.L. examinations, they were sorely mistaken. N.E.W.T. year had already laid claim to almost a dozen nervous collapses.

Professor Dumbledore purposely fiddled with the papers on his desk as the class filed out, knowing that Minerva was there, probably trying to catch his eye. It was safer all round if he just didn't look up. He had spent equal amounts of time over the last fortnight both beating himself up for behaving so abominably … and reliving every moment of the experience in his mind. He was sure of one thing though: it could never happen again.

'Professor?' His heart sank as he looked up to find that she was the only one left in the room.

'How may I help you, Miss McGonagall?' he asked, gathering up his papers, eager to leave. He was not sure his resolve could stand this vigorous a test just yet.

'I've been giving serious consideration to becoming an Animagus - at least I'd like to try - and I was wondering if you could give me more information,' she said, slinging her bag over her shoulder and coming to stand by his desk.

He looked at her for a long moment, not entirely sure he trusted her motivations, and then berated himself for thinking so ill of her. She was an excellent student, top of the year and Head Girl. She was simply asking for help from her Transfiguration Professor. He rubbed his chin, 'Firstly, it is an extremely difficult skill to learn, not everyone who attempts it is successful. As you know there have only been five Animagi in the last century. It requires a great deal of dedication and hard work. You will need to find a sponsor, someone who is prepared to oversee your training which could take several years.'

'You could do that, couldn't you, sir? Being an Animagus yourself?' she asked, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear.

'I don't think that would be a good idea, Minerva,' he said softly.

She fixed him with a penetrating stare, 'Would you be saying that if nothing had happened between us?' she asked in a low whisper.

'But something did happen,' he said, shutting the door with a flick of his wand and putting a silencing spell around it with another.

'With all due respect, Professor, I see no reason why our personal issues should hinder my education. I'm a good student, I work damn hard and I deserve a chance try this.'

'Of course you do, I just don't think I'm the person to sponsor you. I can recommend several more than qualified candidates and I'd be happy to put in a good word for you.' She looked for a moment as though she was going to argue but seemed to think better of it.

'I'd appreciate that, thank you,' she said, lowering her gaze.

'Well, if that's all…' he said, making to leave.

'Sir, I just want you to know I…' she faltered, fiddling with the strap of her bag. 'Look, I don't regret what happened - I have feelings for you and that's not something I can help - but I am sorry if I've put you in a difficult position. I know you think what we did was wrong and probably want to forget it ever happened. I can't, I've tried but I can't. I'm not someone who breaks the rules just for the fun of it but sometimes rules are made to be broken.'

'Not this one,' he sighed, putting his burden down on the nearest desk. 'This is all my fault. I am a teacher, you are my student. I should have exercised more control.'

'Why? I may be a student but I'm no child.'

'Of that I am aware,' he said wryly, 'but you are still only eighteen. You would do better to find someone your own age.'

'But I don't want anyone else…' she confessed quietly, 'I want you and I know you want me too.'

'What we want is neither here nor there,' Minerva noticed he did not contradict her assertion of his feelings for her. 'What you ask is impossible.'

'We wouldn't be having this conversation if that were so,' she challenged gently.

'Minerva, please, listen to me,' he begged, 'You must forget everything that happened between us. In a few months you will leave Hogwarts and never look back. Until then I suggest we keep contact to a minimum.'

She shook her head, 'You don't really want that.'

'I think I know my own mind!' he snapped with unwonted anger.

'It wasn't your mind doing the thinking the other night when you touched me … when you ran your fingers through my hair … when we made love …' she had let her bag slip to the floor, steadily closing the gap between them as she spoke, every word filling him with visions of their night together. He grasped her by the shoulders, holding her at arms length, his heart in his throat. He was terrified; terrified of the power she had over him and of what she would do with that power. She was the snake charmer and he was the snake.

'Minerva,' he said dazedly, her lips seeming to fill his field of vision. 'We can't.'

Her hands on the front of his robes pulled him closer and he obeyed. 'There's no such word as "can't",' she whispered. He tried to say I think you'll find there is but instead found himself with her face in his hands, his mouth descending on hers.

'Professor Dumbledore?' They broke apart as someone rattled the door handle and then knocked on the door. They held their breath, eyes fixed on the only way in or out of the classroom (save for the windows if you didn't mind falling three floors). They heard a second, higher voice saying, 'He must have gone already, come on let's check his office.' followed by retreating footsteps. Minerva sagged against Albus' shoulder, breathing out a deep sigh of relief. Her fingers ached where they had clenched in the fabric of his robes. He cleared his throat, stepping back and she released him.

'I should get out of here,' she suggested, collecting her bag from the floor. He nodded mutely in agreement, though even now, with what had nearly happened, he still wanted to kiss her. He lifted the enchantments on the door and there was a loud click as it unlocked and swung open. Passing within a breath of him she pressed a piece of parchment into his hand and was gone.

He had watched her leave, unable to tear his eyes away from her retreating back, the gentle curves that weren't quite hidden by her robes. She was so confident, so self-assured … so young he reminded himself for the billionth time in the past few hours. He read again the missive in his hand as he brooded before the fire in his quarters.

"I will come to you tonight … don't turn me away..."

He glanced at the clock over the mantelpiece, drumming his fingers on the arm of his chair. He should have gone out, removed himself from temptation. She would be here soon and he wasn't entirely sure he would turn her away. He was already formulating any number of excuses to give in the event that someone found her in his personal rooms. He could quite reasonably assert that they were discussing her wish to become an Animagus.

A second later he was furious with himself for even entertaining the notion. She was brilliant and had a bright future ahead of her, a future that could be over before it began if they were found out. And then he had his own career to consider, he would be kicked out of Hogwarts faster than you could say 'never tickle sleeping dragons'.

And then the other side of his brain pointed out that they had already gotten away with it once, there was no reason to think that they couldn't again. Who would ever suspect a student of Minerva's caliber of having an affair with the venerable Albus Dumbledore? And he couldn't deny her allure - where had she led him that he hadn't wanted to go? She had always been one of his favourite students: endlessly curious and unafraid to challenge him, a sense of humour so dry that it was sometimes hard to tell if she was joking or not; she seemed to have an aptitude for almost everything she turned her hand to and on top of all of this she had the poise and demeanor of a woman twice her age. All these things he had admired in her long before noticing how singularly beautiful she was.

'It still doesn't make it right!' he hissed at himself, getting to his feet. He'd just have to leave before she got here, that was all there was to it, then there was absolutely no chance of anything happening. He stalked purposefully towards the door. His hand had just touched the handle when there was a knock. Too late.

If it weren't for the wards preventing apparition inside the grounds he might have unintentionally splinched himself at that moment: he had never been so torn, simultaneously wanting to run away and hide yet equally compelled to wrench the door open.

Minerva stood outside in the corridor, praying that no one would happen upon her, terrified that she would receive no answer from within. She was essentially throwing herself at him and there was no guarantee he would catch her a second time. Until now she had been drawing on her Gryffindor bravery, desperately trying to hold her nerve: she was not used to playing the wily seductress. A month ago she would never have dreamed of coming onto a teacher, had ignored her mounting feelings for him as best she could but there was something in the way he looked at her when she caught him unguarded, the longing in his eyes that he tried to hide - she just knew he felt at least some of the love she had for him.

And it was love; it ran too deep to be a schoolgirl crush. That night in his rooms they had argued but the more he protested the more she knew she was right and when she had finally screwed up the last of her courage to kiss him (repeating the mantra 'fortune favours the brave' over and over in her head) … he had kissed her back. Spending the night in his arms had been the last thing she'd expected and yet it had felt so right she knew she could never let him go. Unfortunately he had other ideas, had avoided her like the plague ever since. It had taken her until today to gather her strength enough to stage another assault on his defenses. Now, standing alone in the corridor her courage was slipping away like sand through an hourglass.

What if he didn't answer?

She lifted her hand to knock again but hesitated, swallowing. If he didn't want her it wouldn't matter how long she stood outside his door. If he didn't want her she would have to creep back to her dorm and try to forget. It had been almost two minutes. She could feel tears starting to prick her eyes - how could she have been foolish enough to think that a man like Albus Dumbledore would want to be with her? She had half turned to go when the door opened.

With a quick glance up and down the corridor, she slipped inside.