My attempt at how Minerva and Albus met and their changing relationship over the years. No doubt the rating will change as it progressess. I'm doing my best with what (little) information we have so forgive me if at times dates and events seem out of sync or purely guess work!

AN: I own nothing and make no pennies from this!

Chapter 1 – early summer, 1944

It shouldn't really matter, that's the annoyance of it all, it was a slight hiccup in an otherwise perfect spell. But it does and that's what cuts now.

"Sir, I think what happened is I..."

But he had brushed her aside with a wave of his hand and that's what really hurt, what really mattered, that the man she sought to impress above all others had witnessed the error, however slight.

When she'd started over it had gone perfectly well and she'd still completed first, but none of that mattered. Only the error.

And as she sat watching Dumbledore move from student to student giving encouragement and congratulations she was once again torn over her feelings of adulation and abhorrence towards him. She'd always considered him to be some kind of god, omniscient, a saviour perhaps who would one day be called upon to save the wizarding world. Now, he appeared as a figure in authority who had let her down. And in a classroom where she quite often felt alone that mattered.

It wasn't entirely fact that Minerva McGonagall was a strict, no-nonsense workaholic; sure she came across that way the majority of the time but it wasn't for want of trying. At school she had always tried to make the effort, it just seemed easier for other girls than herself. Whilst they were fussing over what to wear and which boy they were now enamoured with, she was doing her upmost to impress her professors with the new piece of information she'd learnt by heart and pushing her talents with novel, and ever more difficult, spells.

She haphazardly stacked her books together at the sound of the bell, bristling when a Slytherin purposefully nudged her arm on his way out. Even now, in her seventh year, she was still viewed as an easy target. Sighing she got down on her knees to collect her things together and noted a pair of patent purple shoes approach her desk.

"Miss McGonagall?"

"Yes Professor," she glanced up at him, definitely god-like as he towered over her.

"Everything okay?"

"Perfectly," she scrambled up, brushing down her robes.

"Clumsy today?"

"No sir!" she bit back too quickly, she always did snap without thinking. "I completed the spell, you didn't check."

A smile twitched at the corners of his mouth, "I saw – you did it perfectly, as usual."

She opened her mouth to speak but nothing came out.

"You're impulsive Miss McGonagall, remember sometimes to slow down and consider your actions." He referred of course both to her rushing of the spell earlier and her sharp comments.

She nodded, crestfallen, "Yes sir."

His eyes twinkled in merriment at her, such fierceness in one so young.

"Only a few months to go," he added, "and you'll be fine, we both know you have a glittering career ahead of you. Don't let anyone hold you back."

"No sir, thank you."

She turned on her heel and swept out of his classroom and it took him a few minutes to realise he was still staring after her. All too quickly Minerva McGonagall had gone from his favourite, and most promising, student, to the girl often creeping into his everyday thoughts.

It was with trepidation that she approached the esteemed Headmaster's office and for a while she stood there staring at the fearsome gargoyle, her mind turning over the options on what to do next. How did one gain entrance to the Headmaster's office?

She didn't have to worry for long though as quite soon Professors Dumbledore and Hyde were approaching.

"Miss McGonagall, can we help you?" The young Ms Hyde said and it surprised Minerva how she bristled at the sight of her with Dumbledore. She was, probably quite rightly, the subject of most of the male students' fantasies. A blur of blonde curls and a rosy complexion.

"Yes, I... the Headmaster..." She paused mentally slapping herself, 'pull yourself together girl' "I have an appointment with the Headmaster to discuss my next steps regarding the Auror programme." She said quite calmly.

"Perhaps you should come with us," Dumbledore said, sweeping his arm before him. Professor Hyde muttered something towards the gargoyle and ascended before Minerva, who shivered when she felt Dumbledore's arm squeeze her shoulder.

"Ah, Albus, Charlotte, I'm glad you're both here. And our promising Miss McGonagall."

Minerva was doing her best not to gaze around the room in wonder; it was so vast, brimming with history and knowledge.

"Sir." Was all she could muster in response.

"Do take a seat," Albus said comfortingly, conjuring a small green armchair behind her. She hesitantly sat down.

"Now, Miss McGonagall I am so very sorry to have to cancel our meeting, I've been called away on rather urgent business, as you know these are desperate... well, you're but a chi... Never mind. Professor Dumbledore, I'm sure, is more than capable of stepping in, so your preparation won't have gone to waste, and Charlotte..." he stepped in and took the other woman's arm, whispering something to her.

Minerva lowered her books into her lap, staring steadfastly at them, she suddenly felt so very small in that large room.

"Would you like a cup of tea?" She looked up, meeting Albus' warm gaze, "And then we'll get started." He said pleasantly, clapping his hands together.

She was on her second cup of tea before Headmaster Dippet and Professor Hyde had left.

"Have a biscuit Minerva." Dumbledore said, placing a tin on the arm of the chair. "I think you'll find they're very good."

She hesitated; she didn't really have a sweet tooth after all. But then it seemed rude not to take one. Ginger newts, she recalled having a particular fondness for them when she was a girl.

"Thank you Professor." She nibbled one corner, then smiled, leaning back in her chair, seemingly instantly relaxing. "Oh my goodness," she breathed, "these are the best..."

Dumbledore chuckled, it wasn't often Minerva McGonagall forgot herself. She seemed to sense his amusement and covered her mouth, a slight blush creeping to her cheeks. Surely she was too old to get embarrassed.

He waved his hand at her, "Have another, have another. I thought you might appreciate them."

"Thank you Professor, they are most divine."

"You may have noticed I have something of a sweet tooth myself." He said, taking a seat across from her and pouring a cup of tea.

"I have noticed you tend to..." She smiled, quietly sipping her tea; perhaps she shouldn't reveal how she'd watched him during mealtimes. How she had noted his tendencies.

"I tend to?"

"You sometimes have second helpings; I think apple crumble is one of your favourites."

"You would be quite right."

"And lemon tart, with cream."

This time Albus leant back in his chair, his long fingers folding in front of him, was she really that interested in his likes and dislikes? A young woman as beautiful and talented as she?

"Again, Minerva, you are right. I see you are already honing your tracking skills."

She glanced down, away from his searching eyes, away from how the sound of her name on his lips made her stomach swoop.

"Don't be embarrassed my dear, every Auror needs that skill."

Ah, the focus on their meeting. She sat up again, ever the eager student. "I've read the pamphlets Sir, and a few books I found in the library, and I've tried to make contact with the ministry regarding my application. Headmaster Dippet said..."

He held his hand up, "Yes Miss McGonagall, several times I believe. Didn't we talk about patience earlier today?"

"But...?" She bit down on her lip endearingly, feeling like a scolded child.

He softened his tone, "I apologise, I am not in the business of chastising. You should know Minerva that you are one of the finest students Hogwarts has had the pleasure of."

She narrowed her eyes, she wasn't used to praise, hard work yielded results in her home and that was all.

"Exceptionally talented with a work ethic to rival any Professor in this school. I do believe your application is a matter of protocol rather than a real deciding factor. Along with your exam results of course, but we all expect..." He paused; pressure and expectation were a difficult thing to shoulder at eighteen years old, as he very well knew.

"Then... have I done something wrong Sir?"

"Wrong?"

"Yes," she nodded slightly, sitting forward until one of her books toppled from her lap. "I often feel as if you, as if you are judging me."

For a moment he was unsure how to proceed; he certainly never meant his demeanour to in any way come across as negative. If anything, he was doing his best to distance himself from her, as he had done for years. They'd spent so much time together, since her third year when she'd showed outstanding talent in transfiguration he'd spent hours out-of-lessons with her, teaching her things even adult wizards struggled with. And then, the realisation she had the ability to possibly be an Animagus... he'd been so proud, as if she were his to be proud of.

"No Minerva, you've done nothing wrong," He leant forward, picking up the book she'd dropped and accidentally brushing her foot as he brought it up to her lap.

She held his gaze, her eyes penetrating, sparkling, and he found himself drifting into the pleasure of sitting there with her, surrounded by her unique fragrance that he'd learnt so well over the years. The curve of her long, elegant neck as she tipped her head to one side to regard him, the stark contrast between her pale, delicate skin and the ebony shine of her hair.

"Professor?"

"Yes," he coughed, sitting back. He was an old man to her, he should know better.

"I was just wondering, I mean, do you think the Headmaster would mind if I just had a quick look at his bookcase?"

At this he laughed, she hadn't even noted the intensity of the moment. "Miss McGonagall you astound me." He stood up with a sweep of his burgundy robes. "It is rather an impressive room though isn't it," he glanced to the desk, up behind it to the observatory. Holding his hand out to her he said quickly, "Come, I'll show you my favourite part."

She placed her books on the chair and followed him up the small stairway to where the telescope stood, grand and majestic.

"Astronomy is quite a passion of mine Minerva."

She heard him say as she approached the top of the stairs, again the use of her name, again the tightness in her stomach.

"Come, come, sit here." He guided her forward and she did as he said, taking a seat on the plush purple cushion and taking a look through the eyepiece.

"Of course it isn't the right time, three o'clock in the afternoon, but in the evening imagine the wonder..." His voice trailed off as he watched her, her slim hand already coming up to rest against the side of the telescope as she shifted into a better position.

"It's very quiet up here," she finally said. "Secluded."

"Yes, I suppose it is." He said gently, leaning back against the wall, "Perhaps that's why I like it; peace can be a difficult thing to come by."

She moved, her eyes searching his face as he spoke.

"Sir, I've heard," she swallowed, gathering her courage. "The attacks sir, in Europe."

His gaze sharpened, and yet to her it seemed a flash of pain crossed his wise features.

"I want to fight, to protect..."

The thought of the young Minerva caught up in this seemed alien to him, he knelt down in front of her. "I would not dream of having you harmed in this war."

She smiled, "No, but I don't intend to be harmed." She said, jutting her chin out defiantly.

At this he smiled, "Ever the Gryffindor, you are fierce Minerva, but remember what I've said, patience. You have years of training ahead of you, don't drag yourself into this before you are ready."

"Will you be 'dragged into it' Sir?"

He paused for a moment, then said simply, "Yes, I rather suspect I will. But then, I have always been involved in it."

She didn't know what he meant by that, but there was little time to ask as he squeezed her hand. "Come, we better leave the Headmaster's office, it's a beautiful day outside, go find your friends, enjoy being young."

She didn't have the nerve to tell him that she'd rather spend the entire day right there with him.

It was early May when she found herself in an entirely new position – in more ways than one.

The late afternoon sun was just clearing the Forbidden Forest as she raced down the side of the hill towards their designated meeting spot, robes flying about her as she did so. Her wet hair whipping her face.

"I'm sorry sir," she panted, coming to a severe halt right by Dumbledore's legs, he was sat on the stump of a tree, his eyes closed and a most serene expression on his face. Though she couldn't help but note that his short beard was becoming increasingly grey in colour.

"I got caught up..." she breathed deeply, "I was talking to Professor..." she wheezed, "about my Charms exam next week and..." she breathed deeply again. "I had to rush and change because I had Quidditch practice beforehand and it was muddy and then I bumped into him on the way back to the dormitory and got talking."

"My dear Miss McGonagall, just listening to you has exhausted me." He teased, eyes twinkling.

She smiled, "Thank you Professor." She took one last deep breath, then proceeded to lift her long hair up and back from her face, "I am sorry though Sir, I've been looking forward to this all week."

He knew she meant the excitement of her first attempt at transforming but that wasn't entirely the reason his brain registered. He watched mesmerised as she tamed her wild hair, tying it back in a loose bun at the nape of her neck.

He shook his head to dispel the image of unfastening it for her and letting the loose tendrils fall into his palm. "Are you ready?" He simply asked.

"I'm nervous."

He smiled reassuringly, to be honest he was nervous too, god forbid any harm came to Minerva. Still, she needed him to be strong right now so he masked his nerves and nodded reassuringly. "Everything will be fine my dear."

He was still sitting on the tree stump, behind him the sun was setting and as she stood there staring at him she could have sworn he took on the appearance of a god.

Closing her eyes she concentrated as he went through the steps they'd discussed a hundred times before, closed her mind, focussed deep inside. She followed his instructions; she recanted the spell, silently, in her mind.

The next thing she was fully aware of was Albus' warm hand on her arm and his voice, concerned yet gentle.

"Minerva," he said, slightly anxiously she thought. "Can you hear me?"

She nodded, vaguely aware of her surroundings, evening had come. "Yes, yes I can."

He let out a long breath, "Well done my dear."

"For... for what?" She asked dazed as he helped her sit. "I don't remember."

"It can be quite off-putting first time I am told, sometimes for the first few times, you didn't fully change of course but there were signs. Then I believe, to use a well-known phrase, you passed out."

"Oh," was all she could muster as she leant back against the tree stump he had been sitting on. "Did I look awful?"

"When you fainted?" He chuckled sitting on the floor beside her.

"No, when I changed."

This time he shook his head with a smile, still holding her hand in his. "No, I doubt you ever could."

She looked up at him sharply and he quickly ploughed on. "Your hands showed signs of changing," she wiggled her fingers in his palm. "And your eyes, your nose," he followed the line with his gaze, so very close now, his face inches from hers, she could smell hints of fresh limes on his breath. "And your mouth."

She nervously licked her lips. An unfathomable pounding had started somewhere deep inside and she was unsure whether it was the result of her transformation or something much more terrifying, something much more human.

It felt to her as if the air had suddenly warmed, and the wide, wide world had shrunk and now centred on this very place, this very moment here with him. She kept telling herself he was her Professor, he was her friend and mentor but her brain seemed to be losing all rational thought – not at all something she was used to.

He was staring at her mouth, at the way she nervously bit down on her bottom lip and his crystal clear eyes held such warmth for her, she leant forward without even thinking it through and tenderly pressed her lips against his.

She was so very young; she tasted like ripe strawberries, fresh and heady, Albus thought as her sweet mouth touched his.

Of course, the rational, upright, moral side of him should have pushed her away immediately. The teacher in him should have. But he couldn't even bring himself to lift his arm.

Their mouths were closed, it wasn't the most passionate kiss or the most forceful, it wasn't full of promise or hidden desires. It was simply sweet and seemed so very natural.

It wasn't until the need for air forced them apart that he took control of the situation. Putting physical distance between them as he rose and turned away from her.

In a second she was on her feet, terrified of where this now went.

"Miss Mc..." he turned to face her, rubbing his chin, "Minerva," he breathed gently. "We both know that was very wrong."

She stopped, her heart sank a little, and yet there was a new feeling, a deep burning in the root of her stomach that seemed to sink down between her legs. She'd felt similar things once or twice but nothing like she felt now. Nothing so consuming.

"Yes, Professor. I'm sorry."

"No, I am, I shouldn't have let it happen." He paused, sorting his thoughts into some kind of logical order, trying to ignore the very physical response his body had started to make to her kiss. "I care very deeply for you my dear, but I am your Professor and you are only..."

"Eighteen. And I graduate in just over a month."

"I am aware of that." He knew of what she hinted, but it was ridiculous to even contemplate it. She was still his student. He had to see her as that, and only that. "I'm very proud of you," he said awkwardly, noting how she rolled her eyes, it made him smile, she had balls did McGonagall, he remembered once seeing her knock a seventh year off his broom during Quidditch try outs when she was but twelve years old.

"What are you laughing at?" She said affronted, hands on her hips.

"I was just recalling your first Quidditch try out." He chuckled

"Now?" She asked incredulously, she would never truly understand how Albus Dumbledore's mind worked.

"I'm sorry," he moved back to her, careful not to touch her this time though. "Perhaps we should just..."

"Let's forget it!" She interrupted, "I made a mistake, let's just forget it."

He nodded, solemnly.

After wards, creeping back across the field towards the castle, she felt slightly at odds with the surroundings. Inside she knew there would be giggly eighteen year old girls enjoying perhaps their last few weeks of sharing dormitory space. Silly chats over boys. Worried chats over exams. Future plans. Talk of staying in touch.

And yet she felt detached. Alone. Despite his strong, reassuring presence behind her.

He followed at a slight distance behind her, watching how her young lithe body moved so quickly and easily up the hill. How some of her hair had come loose from the bun and she had dirt smudged on her robes from where they'd sat.

Before they were within real distance of the castle he stopped her, a gentle hand on her upper arm.

"Minerva..."

She half turned, glancing back over her shoulder to him. "Don't worry Professor; I won't say anything... ever..."

His eyes looked troubled, face suddenly lined. "I'm sorry, I should never..." He said earnestly.

"Don't be," she shrugged, "I wanted to, it was me not you who forced this."

"I don't want you to feel let down by me."

She smiled, in spite of her heavy mood, "I never could be Albus. Perhaps I should go back alone."

He nodded – it was the first time he could ever recall her using his name.

"Goodnight."

"Goodnight my dear," he watched as she ran up the last of the slope and, oddly, felt incredibly lonely.

It was by no means the first time she'd kissed a boy, man she mentally berated herself, he's a man, as old as your father. And yet he didn't seem as old as her father. He was just Albus. And the kiss had been like no other she'd ever experienced.

Minerva wasn't one for fame or adoration, she'd won countless tournaments over the years, had aced every exam she'd ever taken, yet she never sought glory and wholeheartedly avoided the 'in' crowd. That didn't mean she was entirely a loner. She had friends, good friends, but they were a select group and she preferred it that way. And with boys too it had been the same, she was by no means frigid or the ice-maiden many of her classmates referred to her as. Yet she didn't flaunt her relationships, which had amounted to two that mattered, and she certainly never kissed and told.

But now, lying in bed replaying those forty-five seconds over and over in her mind, she wished there was someone she could tell. Her heart felt it might burst with the juxtaposition of utter joy and sheer pain over it all. Here she was, eighteen years old, and she'd fallen for her considerably older Professor. He was sixty-three, she knew that because she'd stolen into the library earlier in the evening and looked it up, he'd be sixty-four in the summer. She repeated the numbers over and over in her head but the more she did, the more they meant nothing. It didn't change who he was. It didn't change how she felt about him.

Groaning she pulled her pillow over her face, she needed to sleep!

At breakfast the next morning Albus had resisted the urge to seek her face out on the Gryffindor benches. He hardly slept, rising at four and walking the grounds as the sun rose, he found himself sitting by the lake as it crept over the hill, saying her name into the early morning mist. There was something about it, uttering the syllables into the misty air, watching them rise like steam. The feel of her name on his lips made him happy, and that was a fact that both terrified and humiliated him.

For one thing he was too old to find silly, and pointless, actions like saying her name aloud enriching. And for another, it had been many, many years since an act like that had even interested him. He hadn't been in love for over forty years, and then it wasn't even with a female. So, the irony of it being one now, and a student at that, failed to amuse even his usual joyful nature. He thought he knew himself well. Love, the one thing he always championed beyond all else, seemed to be using him as a punch-bag.

"Albus," he felt a heavy hand land on his shoulder and quickly put his spoon back down into his porridge.

"Ah, morning Horace, and how are we this morning?" He dropped another lump of sugar into his tea, in real need of a pick-up.

"Vexed," Slughorn replied, slipping into a seat beside him. "Not only are we nearing the end of term with your talented house still far ahead of mine, but the gifted Miss McGonagall..."

Albus' head shot up, "Yes?"

"Well she refuses to join my little get togethers, has done for the past three years now, and I really think with her future prospects having her there for the last few gatherings will be most..."

Albus watched him tight-lipped, a little amused. "Most?"

"Well, a waste really, a damn waste. I was wondering if you could maybe... have a word?"

"I refuse to get involved in this Horace, I'm sure if she's made that decision she has her reasons, she's taking a great many subjects, she's probably booked up." The feel of her face brushing his flashed into his mind causing his breathing to hitch a little, luckily Horace was so absorbed in his own issues he didn't notice.

Pushing his tea aside Albus got up, "I have a class this morning so I'll talk to you later Horace."

"Yes, yes..." Slughorn said, finishing off Dumbledore's porridge.

Tentatively Minerva neared the Transfiguration corridor; she wasn't sure what was going to happen when she saw him again. After all it was unlikely they'd explode on the spot or somehow give away their indiscretion from two days ago just by a look. She wasn't exactly certain what it was she feared – perhaps the look in his eyes, what if they were full of regret? Of loathing? Or worse, of pity? Silly young girl developing a crush at this point in her education.

The great door creaked slightly as she pushed it back and Albus looked up from his desk where he was grading papers.

"Er, Sir, Professor Slughorn said you wished to see me." She croaked out from the back of the long room.

He found his hand shook slightly as he put his quill down. "I'm sorry Miss McGonagall; I didn't quite catch what you said."

She twisted her hands together; wishing she'd brought some books with her, holding them in front of her would provide at least some kind of security blanket. Her shoes seemed to click louder than usual as she quickly made her way between the desks to him.

"I came because Professor Slughorn said you wished to see me."

Albus rolled his eyes, "Did he now!"

"Is that not the case?"

She was nervous, Merlin, he'd hardly ever seen her like that. It reminded him of how young she was.

"He's trying to coerce me to coerce you into joining his little group?"

"The Slugs?" She asked incredulously and Albus let out a roar of laughter which put her completely at ease. "Sorry Sir," she said sheepishly.

He waved it away, "No matter." He paused for a moment watching her, "Can I ask why you didn't join?"

She shrugged, "I never felt it would be beneficial to me."

At this he smiled, again a sense of pride rising in him.

"And, I'm not too fond of some of the members..." she trailed off and he wondered if she harboured the same foreboding about a certain Tom Riddle as he did. He was a fellow Prefect after all, and they were on the duelling team together but he'd never caught so much of a whiff of friendship between the two, hardly even acknowledgement.

Still, there was no need to press her on something like that. She'd be gone in a month and hopefully never encounter Riddle again.

"Professor..." She said gently, and he nodded as he gathered his papers together. "I'm sorry I missed your lesson yesterday."

He sat back, folding his hands together, "That's quite alright Minerva, I understand why," he paused, torn between wanting to alleviate her distress and yet maintain that professional distance. "But I do hope you'll be present tomorrow. Last few lessons now."

The thought of not seeing him everyday hadn't occurred to her before and she found it nauseating.

"I will. In fact I was wondering," she was at ease now, in her element discussing work, it was easier to forget that she'd made a fool of herself kissing him. "Last year we began to discuss Patronus charms... we even started some lessons."

"Ah yes, I recall, you were very interested."

"Yes, but then I got so caught up in the Animagus training over the summer that it just sort of..."

"You're interested and skilled in so many areas, it can be tiring. Do you wish to start working on them again?"

"If you're willing, I don't want it to be..." he watched as she twisted her hands together, her usual ramrod straight back curving a little as she moved, "...awkward."

He swallowed. He longed to hold her.

"Not at all, we're friends are we not. Shall we start now?"

The first time Minerva successfully cast her Patronus was by the lake, on a heady June night.

For the past two weeks she had worked alone plasticising, Professor Dumbledore having been abruptly called away. She had her suspicions as to why but she didn't dwell on them. The thought of him going headlong into danger unnerved her more than it should have, more than a Gryffindor should feel these things.

When he'd returned she knew something was terribly wrong, he was back physically but he wasn't completely in their lessons, or their conversations. She watched from her usual seat as his lessons became lifeless and he himself listless.

A week before her last exam she had headed down to the lake, knowing on some level it was wrong, despite feeling so very right.

She'd seen him from a window as she'd returned from the library, clutching her revision notes and muttering under her breath about incantations. It only took a few minutes to reach him, and she wanted so to lift his spirits, the downward slope of his shoulders suggested heartbreak.

"Professor..." she said gently as she reached the place he stood.

He glanced back over his shoulder, "Ah, Miss McGonagall, evening."

"Good evening sir, good to see you back."

"Isn't it beautiful here," he said nodding out at the view. "When I'm away I sometimes forget just how much. The ever changing scenery."

"Yes sir, I'll miss it, immensely. And the castle, it's like, home." She came to stand beside him, almost shoulder to shoulder.

"I sometimes forget, you'll be leaving us very soon," he regarded her face, serene and poised as always. "I shall miss having you around."

"I'll miss learning from you Professor, and... talking to you. You've taught me so very much."

He nodded, turning his attention back to the view. "Terrible things are happening Minerva, as much as I would like to send you out into the world ready to embrace all of its joys and successes, I fear, as an Auror, you'll see the dark side more than you should."

She wasn't quite sure how to respond, they always spoke honestly, openly, but he was being candid with her now in a way she wasn't used to. Almost as if she were his equal, his friend, he'd used the word before and she'd doubted the validity of it.

"I'd like to stay in touch Sir," she finally said, "would you mind if I write to you here?"

"Of course not Minerva, it's been a great pleasure to watch you grow and learn all these years. To teach you, have you in my house." He wasn't sure if keeping in touch was such a good idea, but then he wasn't entirely sure if he'd be alive come September.

She smiled, "I sometimes wonder if the right choice was made, would I have been better suited to Ravenclaw after all."

"No life is without questions or regrets, yet none is without its joys, and you have many years ahead of you. You are courageous Minerva, and loyal."

"I'm not sure I'm a leader."

"Not all of us are, and yet, I believe you're selling yourself short. You're only eighteen remember, many things still to learn." He suddenly laughed, catching her off-guard, "And yet your wit..." he chuckled, "would make you highly suitable for Ravenclaw."

"I don't think I'd ever been so terrified as when the sorting hat was placed on my head, I kept willing it to hurry up so I wouldn't have to be the centre of attention for long."

He remembered her skinny legs swinging as she hopped up onto the stool, long hair loose down her back.

"Well, you're highly intelligent, quick-minded, and of course your very name suggests wise."

She smirked, folding her arms around her revision notes, "Not always."

"Time will tell." He added.

For a while they stood in companionable silence, until the sun was almost set and a tranquil, lavender light, was playing across the lake.

"Shall we give it go then?" He asked, breaking the silence.

"Sorry sir?" She said, quite taken aback.

"Your Patronus, I'm aware you've been practising."

"Oh, yes Professor, of course." She quickly placed her notes on the floor and took out her wand.

"Remember your happiest memory, let it fill you."

She closed her eyes, images and half-heard whispered words flew through her mind, searching for the one thing that would spark it. Her first win at Quidditch, her first outstanding in Transfiguration, dancing at the Christmas ball with Jamie Ludlow, receiving the duelling champion trophy... Albus Dumbledore smiling at her, holding her hand, touching her arm, kissing her lips...

The force of it almost made her topple over but he caught her elbows holding her steady. This overwhelming force surged forward and for a moment she felt undone by it. But then it travelled out over the lake, and they smiled together at her Animagus darting over the glassy surface.

Too soon it melted away and she sagged back against him.

"Congratulations," he whispered by her ear, "now you have to learn how to maintain that when danger approaches, and I might even teach you my secret."

She tilted her head up to look at him, "Oh?"

"Using them for communication. Not many can, in fact, if I do say so myself, I do believe I am the only one to try it."

She smiled, at once completely happy.

"Tomorrow?"

"Perhaps, we need more lessons Miss McGonagall but I'll teach you."

She didn't see him again for the rest of the year. He was called away and when she left Hogwarts for the last time that summer she feared she'd never see him again at all. He didn't attend the summer graduation, and by then fear was rampant anyway.

Both the wizarding and Muggle worlds were in the depths of war.

Hope you're enjoying it so far - please let me know what you think. R