I got into Pottermore a few days ago, and after dealing with the incredible disappointment of finding out that only the first book is available so far, I started looking for fanfiction stories that enabled the wonderful background information we have received. I have read a few, here and there, but none that focussed on this particular story - and here I was thinking there'd be tons of stories! Perhaps I'm missing it.

Anyway, this story takes place after McGonagall has received the letter that tells her that the man loved has married another woman. Pottermore speaks of an evening where Dumbledore finds McGonagall in tears, and that the stories shared that night formed 'the basis of a lasting mutual esteem and friendship.' I wanted to explore that night, because I can really see it in my mind. This is the result. I hope it's up to par! You wouldn't believe how hard it is to write McGonagall, and Dumbledore is even harder...

Enjoy!

She noticed, after a while, that she had crumpled the letter in her hand. Those dreaded words, which her mother had written down so carelessly, were now creased and folded, but she could not bear to straighten them out again.

Her students had not noticed a thing, and she prided herself on that. But now, in the dark evening, alone in her familiar classroom, she could no longer keep up the appearance of a normal day.

She supposed that her mother's news oughtn't to have been such a painful surprise; after all, she had lived on, too, hadn't she? Of course, Dougal would have done the same thing. Oh, and that boy McGregor has married Agnes' daughter, Maeve. You were never good friends with her, were you? Their wedding was beautiful, though; I'm sorry you missed it.That was all that her mother had written on the matter, but the news had hurt her deeply.

In the years after those days, both amazing and terrible, she had strived to forget that particular aspect of her past. She had thrown herself into her work at the Ministry, and then at Hogwarts, with a perseverance that had often surprised others. She had slowly learned not to dwell on the past so often, and the one exception was the box with letters from him that she still kept under her bed.

She stood up slowly, shakily, and summoned the box from beneath her bed. Perhaps now really was the time to say goodbye forever to that part of her old life. Maybe she had continued, in the dark recesses of her mind, to hold some hope, to imagine that in the future, yes, somewhere in the future, she would find in a way to reconcile his and her lives.
But she never had. And now, it was too late.

It was this knowledge more than anything that brought tears to her eyes. Her chance had passed, now. Never again would she laugh at his jokes, or argue furiously with him, or – or kiss him, and wish they would never have to stop. The force of her emotions overwhelmed her, and after a while, she no longer bothered to dry her face. Instead, she opened the box, and the very first line she read - Dear Min, I missed you today - brought new tears to her eyes. Did he miss her still? Did Maeve know that, once, she and him had been at the eve of marriage? Would he have told her that bit, the part where they had met on so many evenings of so many beautiful nights, talking, arguing, laughing?

Those nights she wore very close to her heart, her own private memories of happiness. Even though she had forbidden herself to dwell upon the final moments of their relationship, she had not been able to stop thinking about those lovely nights. She had loved him fiercely, before she had even known it.

In the end, she knew she had made the right decision. A marriage like her parents', loving but without true understanding, and never quite complete, she did not want to have. She wanted a union where she could be herself, and the one standing beside her knew her, all aspects of her.

But now, her chance with him was forever gone –she knew that he truly loved Maeve, if he had married her– and the knowledge caused her breath to come in gasps, made tears burn in her eyes and made her wish desperately, desperately, that she had made a different decision all those years back.

She did not notice him until he stood beside her, one hand on her shoulder. When she looked up sharply, she saw that it was Albus Dumbledore, his blue eyes gazing down at her uncommonly seriously. He seemed to be at a loss for words, and merely kept his hand on her shoulder, as she tried to compose herself somewhat.

"I am very sorry for your pain," he said softly, after a while. "Do you want to talk?"

She was about to shake her head no, intending to deal with it privately as she'd always done, but his eyes were still upon her and there was no hint of the usual humorous professor.

And then, before she had consciously made a decision, she was telling him everything.

He listened to her, those blue eyes on her face the entire time, and she took comfort in his attention. It was the first time she had spoken of Dougal at all, and the words came quite easily. The pain seemed to lessen the tiniest fraction when she had concluded her story of what had happened, and for a moment, both were silent.

"These histories seem to always come back to haunt us at a much later time," Albus said finally. "Perhaps because we humans seem to be very much capable of repressing them." In his words, she noticed, there was a hint of personal pain. He felt her eyes on him and smiled wistfully. "I have noticed that things of the past have a tendency to explode at very inconvenient moments," he continued. "You seemed distracted ever since you received that letter at breakfast, and I thought you might want some company this night. I had no idea, of course, of the nature of your distress." He looked at her so sadly, yet friendly, that she almost felt a fresh current of tears coming on.

"Well, thank you for coming," she said, softly. "I think, after all this time, I needed to tell somebody about Dougal, and I thank you for being that person."

"You have nothing to thank me for, Minerva." It was the first time he had mentioned her name. "I know that, in times like these, one sometimes simply needs a friend to lend a listening ear." Again, his tone was wistful. This time, she looked at him more intently, and he, uncharacteristically, ducked his head.

"Everybody has their demons," he told her quietly. "I no less than others." His eyes were sad when he looked at her again, seemingly having come to a decision.

"I suppose you know of my battle with Grindelwald." It was no question, but she felt the need to reply anyway.

"Everybody does, Albus," she said shortly. "It's one of the greatest achievements of the 20th century."

"So they say," he agreed with a small smile. "However, like all stories, there are parts which are not known to the public." And then he told her some of his own history – how he had met Grindelwald as a young man, how they had formed a friendship based on shared brilliant intelligence, only to have to fight him years later. She sensed a deep sense of loss in him, despite the monster Grindelwald had become later on. There were gaps in the story – for one, Albus did not mention the reason they grew apart, and Minerva did not ask. It was his right to choose what to tell, and she was honoured that he would even tell her such a personal thing as this.

She could not think of any comforting words, as it was clear to her that Albus would never lose the pain that defeating the wizard which had once been his best friend had brought. The one thing she could think of was to mirror his earlier action, and she comfortingly placed her hand on his shoulder. He smiled gently at her, and they sat in silence for a while, absorbing everything that had taken place over the course of the day.

Minerva's anguish over her love lost was still present in her mind, but Dumbledore's story had managed to dull the pain somewhat. He seemed to have known exactly what she had needed.

A few minutes later –the clock told her it was almost one in the morning– he turned to leave her classroom. In the doorway, he paused, and turned to look at her once more.

"I am so very sorry for you, Minerva."

With those words, he walked away, and she was left to stare at doorway he'd vacated.

This man… This wizard, who had so many painful memories of his own, still managed to make the people around him smile, managed to lighten the burden of others. This man…

And she resolved to stand by him forevermore.