A/N: There's little of Sirius in this story, only a few mentions of him. But I figured Minerva needed to spend some time alone with Harry, and the muse agreed. I hope you'll enjoy the story! Please let me know what you think of it. Constructive criticism is greatly appreciated.

Disclaimer: I'd be a lot richer if I owned Harry Potter. Which is to say that I don't.

Defying Dolores

Minerva gasps audibly when she sees Dolores Jane Umbridge smile as Argus Filch places one of Sybill's trunks in front of the woman. She pays no attention to the students whose heads snap in her direction at hearing such a sound from her; instead, she weaves her way through them until she stands beside her friend.

"Don't cry, Sybill. Please, don't cry. It's going to be fine," she murmurs, very aware that in the silence the words carry far. It makes her feel slightly nervous, but at the moment she can't quite be arsed to care about what everyone thinks of her. She's upset and angry, a combination that will make her explode soon.

She envelops Sybill in a warm embrace, rubbing her friend's arms in an attempt to stop her from shaking. Giving Umbridge the satisfaction of seeing Sybill fall completely to pieces is the last thing she wants to do. Number one on the list of things she does want to do is slap Dolores in the face. Unfortunately, that would no doubt get her sacked and then the students would have one less protector.

And Minerva really isn't a violent woman. She knows how and when to defend herself, but she usually does it by giving some a piece of her mind instead of slapping them or using her wand.

"Is there something you would like to say, Minerva?" Dolores's sweet and cheerful voice inquires. Minerva can hear the underlying challenge in those words even though she doubts anyone else has picked up on it.

"Oh, there's many things I would like to say," she says, showing Dolores she won't quite rise to the challenge. She will not stoop down to Dolores's level; she is a far better woman and she will show it whenever she can, just to annoy the pink-clad toad. Maybe it won't make a difference but at least Minerva feels like she's doing something.

With a steely gaze she looks into Dolores's eyes for a second before focusing on Sybill again. The Divination professor is still trembling. By now, she has an iron grip on Minerva's robe. Gently, Minerva pries the fingers lose to hold Sybill's hand in her own. Umbridge smiles even more broadly at the gesture, most likely because she thinks it's a sign of weakness from them both.

Suddenly, the heavy wooden doors swing open. Albus stands there, looking positively frightening. The power radiates off of him, his eyes look like small pieces of firework ready to burst into action. Minerva knows his anger is directed only at Dolores, which is why she feels nothing but relief when she sees her old friend there. Some of the students, however, seem very ill at ease.

She remembers Sirius saying that Albus uses his brightly coloured robes and the twinkle in his eyes to distract those around him from his true power. She has never told her partner that, but it is in fact exactly what the man does. But there's another reason Albus always looks so lively and happy. He does it to show the kindness in him he doubted he had for a long time after his sister's death.

This brings to mind the fact she'll have to write Sirius that evening, as there's no way she'll be able to get rid of her anger towards Dolores without his help. Not that she won't have to do most of the work alone, but it feels amazing to not have to do it all without help. And perhaps Sirius has a few choice words to add to the insults she'll be spewing and she'll be having a right laugh. It's another type of behaviour odd and unbefitting for her, but Dolores brings out the worst in her.

"Minerva, might I ask you to escort Sybill back inside?" Albus asks. His tone is gentle despite the strict line is mouth has become, and Minerva isn't fooled into believing his anger is starting to dissipate. This is only the beginning.

"Certainly, Albus," she says. She addresses him by his given name like he did to her, and she feels stronger for it. Dolores can strive to take away the bonds between the people at Hogwarts, but she's failing miserably. And by calling each other by their given names, they can rub her nose in it even deeper.

She tugs at Sybill's hand, dragging her inside gently but insistently. Whispers rise among the students but they all stand their ground as they pass them by. It seems watching Albus and Dolores is more interesting than watching the two of them head towards Sybill's rooms.

Once they reach Sybill's bedroom, Minerva guides her down onto the bed. She can see how tired the younger woman is and Sybill is leaning on her heavily after the trip through the castle. She wonders how Sybill managed to hide the exact extend of her fatigue, as she's only noticed a slight difference. Perhaps it's the fact she lost her reason to fight when Dolores threw her in front of the wolves, Minerva muses.

"I'm sorry for not being stronger. You shouldn't have to fight for me as well as for Albus and the children," Sybill mumbles as Minerva tucks the blanket in around her.

It's a lot like caring for a small child or baby, and she wagers the comparison isn't terribly far off. When Umbridge goes after someone, she seeks to make them feel as helpless as a baby trying to move mountains with its tiny fists. It's her way of ensuring the fight someone puts up is less strong than it could have been. Unfortunately, case in point, it works most of the time.

"Don't you apologise. I'll fight for whomever deserves it and you do. Rest," she gently admonishes. She settles on the edge of the bed as Sybill curls up in it. The younger woman looks fragile in the double bed, her eyes looking even larger than they really are and filled with dread.

With an almost unconscious flick of her wand, Minerva fluffs the second pillow in the bed, the one Sybill's head is not currently occupying. After that, Minerva simply keeps an eye on Sybill while she tries not to think about what's going on outside.

An hour later Sybill is finally asleep. For the moment her tears are spent and her demeanor is more relaxed; there's hope for a few undisturbed hours of sleep before the whole debacle comes back to her. What'll happen then is anyone's guess, but she's fairly certain Sybill will need the support of a friend before the sun rises again.

But Minerva leaves the younger woman's side and walks towards her own rooms. As much as Sybill needs her, her cubs need her too. She needs to find a way to ensure Albus and she can stay at the school to minimize Dolores's influence as much as possible. If Albus if forced to leave, she's certain Dolores will have Fudge name her Headmistress. And then, there'll be no stopping her, not even if Minerva refuses to hand her the wards of the school.

Her thoughts are so occupied by stomach-turning visions of Dolores leading the school that she finds herself in front of the door to her rooms without having any recollection of getting there. Her surprise mounts when she notices Harry's sitting on the floor in front of the door.

"Well, I suppose I should let you in now, huh?" she asks, teasing him. A ghost of a smile flickers over her lips as she speaks; it's difficult to outright smile when Umbridge would like nothing better than to use even that as an excuse to sack people.

"I was hoping you'd say that," Harry tells her, mirroring her small smile and teasing tone. But he too is less outspoken than before. All the strength he gives his friends can't hide that, not from a woman as perceptive as Minerva. She's noticed the way his eyes have begun darting around when he walks the hallways, the way he's begun to look over his shoulder to escape Dolores.

She steps into her rooms then, Harry following close behind. Without preamble, she flops down on her couch with a sigh. This is the only place apart from Albus's office she feels hasn't been tainted by the presence of Dolores; her beloved castle doesn't feel the same at all this year.

"What brought you here?" she finally asks Harry, as the young man stares at her from where he's still standing. Perhaps she's behaving more out of character than she's so far been aware of, she thinks. Or maybe Harry's getting better at reading her, what with the time they've started to spend together.

Harry sits down before replying, his brow knitted together. She lets him gather his thoughts as she tucks her feet beneath her. Ever since she was a child, she has sat like this whenever possible. Malcolm used to tease her about that, Robert never failed to mention the man she ended up with would find it cute and her father was always reminded of her mother when she did it; Isobel passed away when Minerva was one. A bad infection to the lungs combined with a fever nothing could deal with had proven to be too strong for Isobel.

"For a moment I thought no one would stand up for professor Trelawney. All the other teachers were so scared. But it didn't take you a second to walk up to her and show Umbridge you would stand by her. I thought you didn't like Divination. Isn't it odd to be friends with someone who teaches a subject you don't like?" he asks.

Apparently, she won't be getting warned about his asking personal questions anymore. But she knows Harry has no ill intentions and it shows the trust he has in her, so she doesn't comment on it at all. Instead, she ponders where to start this story. Albus would have told her to start at the beginning had he been there, but she isn't really sure what the beginning is.

"My relationship with Sybill has always been odd. We met when I was forty-two, she was twenty at the time. She literally bumped into me that day. Instead of letting me apologise or apologising herself, she just stared at me with enormous eyes," Minerva recalls.

Harry laughs softly at that, and Minerva smiles fondly as well. Even the young man probably realises how typical of Sybill that is. She settles back to continue her story, actually glad to be reminded of something good on a day like this.

"Sybill told me she had known she'd be meeting a tall, dark haired woman and she was convinced that I was that woman. I tried to shake her; she was but a child compared to me and I had things to do," Minerva says.

Harry's grin doesn't waver even though he stays absolutely silent, and Minerva goes on. As she speaks, she can almost see the events of that day happening before her eyes; sometimes she curses her memory for being so hell-bent on holding on to even the tiniest details, but in cases like this she's glad for it.

"She wasn't easily persuaded, though. She followed me around for a couple of hours before I finally dragged her into a pub and talked to her. The way her face lit up when I did that made me stick around far longer than I'd planned. When I left, she said she was so glad I'd accepted this had been meant to be. I guess I couldn't not be friends with her after that," Minerva concludes, letting out a small, melodious lough of her own.

"I totally agree with that. But doesn't your dislike of the subject she teaches ever cause trouble?" Harry asks.

Minerva doesn't have to think about the answer to that question. To her and Sybill it all makes sense, even if most don't understand why it does. Albus and Sirius get it, the both of them being intelligent and well aware of how much polar opposites attract both in a friendly and romantic fashion.

"No, it really doesn't. We agreed early on that neither one of us would mention Divination or my dislike thereof when we're together and we're both happy that way," she simply tells him.

The muffled sound of voices and footsteps passing outside her door reaches her ears. It seems Albus has dealt with Dolores and the students are now returning to their dormitories. The tightness in her chests is somewhat alleviated by the realisation that at least another one of Dolores' plans has been thwarted and the students are safe for a little longer again.

"Why is it that you hate Divination, Minerva? You don't have to answer if you don't want to. I'm just curious," Harry suddenly wants to know. The way he twirls his fingers tells her he's a little surprised at his own question.

She, on the other hand, isn't at all surprised he's asking her that; she's been anticipating those words leaving his mouth since he asked her about her friendship with Sybill. At times their bond doesn't even make sense to the both of them, but it's never suffered. Whatever disagreements they may have had, they've always been able to move past them; it's their biggest strength.

"My family's death was predicted by a friend of the family who'd never been known for possessing the skill. I was eight. The message was so veiled, given in such a strange way that I didn't know what it meant. Now that I'm older I understand I can't solely blame the dubious wording, the barely used words and the cloaked warning for all of it; I was too young to understand anyway. But since the day my father and brothers died, I've known it was predicted and I've never been able to shake to guilt over not having been able to tell them or the hatred for Divination it inspired," she tells him, giving him all of the truth.

Harry's eyes widen at her words, or maybe at the soft and collected tone she speaks them in. For someone as young as he is it must be quite odd to speak of death and hatred this way, but as she's older by far she has learnt that there's no need to give those things more power than they already have. It's Albus who helped her discover that and perhaps one day Sirius and she can help Harry realise it too.

"That's about the best reason to hate Divination I could ever think of," Harry finally says. His eyes are a little moist, but she's relieved to see there aren't any real tears falling. She doesn't want or need him to cry over something that happened so long ago, something she could truthfully decide not to give this much meaning to.

"It isn't, not really. It's an excuse and not a reason, there's a big difference between the two. But I think we should end this conversation here. It's about time you headed to the Gryffindor common rooms; mister Filch will probably already be out in the hallways and you don't want to give him a reason for giving you detention," she reminds Harry.

For a second, it looks like Harry might protest. His eyes widen when he realises he's being sent away, he rises slowly enough for her to understand he's not happy about it. But he does rise and he does walk to the door with her in the end, which is all she could have asked for to begin with.

"Things will be all right in the end, Harry," she assures him as he steps into the hallway, squeezing his shoulder.

Harry silently bows his head, but the look in his eyes tells her he isn't convinced she's right. She isn't entirely sure she hasn't just lied to him either, but there really isn't anything else to say. They all need to hold out hope that Fudge will soon realise his mistake and rid them of Dolores, or life will become even more unbearable.

The headache that's been tormenting her since the first day Dolores spent at Hogwarts is still present, but after her talk with Harry it's slightly less powerful. And the prospect of writing to Sirius helps to alleviate the pain as well.

"But it would be even better to see him," she mutters under her breath. It's been a few days again, and she misses her man.

Before, admitting that would have made her blush. Now, it's simply the truth and she's proud of being able to admit it. She's fallen for Sirius harder than she ever has for anyone else, and now that they've been together for a little, it doesn't scare her anymore.

Smiling, she then crosses her rooms and rummages through the desk. Mere seconds later, she walks back towards the couch with a bottle of ink, a quill and a piece of parchment in her hands.

It's not that she's really in a rush to write her letter to Sirius; it's only seven in the evening by now. But she's tired and wants to go to bed early, and if she can't bring herself to start the letter later she might miss the opportunity. And that would lead to no good; she knows all too well she gets snappy when she's tired.

She dips the quill in the ink and put the tip against the parchment, her hand moving gracefully as she writes his name. She then pauses to ponder which event that took place over the last week she should write about first. Not that it really matters, as none of it is worse or better than the rest of it.

Eventually, she settles for telling him Harry's doing relatively well, all things considered. It's what Sirius wants and needs to hear more than anything, except maybe that she'd doing fine too.

As she makes to start writing again, a flash of red and gold captures her attention. Since she's gotten pretty used to seeing this particular sight now that most means of communicating are being controlled by the toad.

"Hello, Fawkes. Did Albus ask you to deliver another letter?" she asks, smiling a little.

The bird lets out a melodious sound, which she takes to mean she's right. And indeed, Fawkes drops a tiny scrap of parchment onto the couch. But the handwriting isn't Albus', as she expected it would be. It's Sirius'.

Ignoring the oddness of it all, she picks up the parchment and reads the words on it. My dearest Minerva, meet me for lunch at Saturday. I love you. Forever yours, Sirius.

Fawkes is patiently waiting, but she ignores the bird for the time being. Saturday is only two days from now, so she removes the ink from the parchment. She can talk to him then. Instead, she writes an equally short note.

My dearest Sirius, I'll be there. I love you too, more than I could ever say. Yours for as long as you'll have me, Minerva.

"Can you takes this to Sirius, Fawkes? Thank you," she says as the bird takes the scrap of parchment into its beak. As soon as he has a hold on it, he disappears.

There are a few questions Minerva still hasn't got an answer to. Why did Fawkes bring her Sirius' letter? Did Albus step out to visit Grimmauld place or did he sent Fawkes to Sirius because he knew Minerva would want to speak to her partner? But she gives up on finding the answers quickly. She's too happy about her wish being granted to wonder about all of that.

And when she crawls into bed at ten that evening, dressed in her green pyjama's, she's still smiling.