Minerva's mind was racing, half-formed thoughts and questions begging to be put into words and sorted out. There had not been time and it had not been the place to do so earlier. She still felt a gaping sense of loss and sorrow, but it was annoyance that fueled her thoughts and pushed her towards her destination now. How could Albus dare suggest she take part in a celebration when they both knew perfectly well that he had no intention of doing so himself? It was only made worse by the fact that he knew she would not listen to him. They were only empty words. The air around her fairly crackled as she stalked down the long, stone corridor toward Albus's office.

The gargoyle leapt aside as she drew near, and she didn't give it a second thought; Albus was waiting for her. Years of secrecy, years of deception and covering their tracks during Order meetings and missions had not allowed them to leave Privet Drive together (old habits die hard), but he certainly knew that their conversation was not over. At the top of the stairs, Minerva shoved the door open. Albus sat in his overstuffed chair by the cold fireplace, the absence of light etching his features in marble. He was staring at the dead logs and didn't even flinch when the door to his office slammed against the stone wall.

She started speaking at once. "Do not even think of uttering a single word, Albus Dumbledore, until I am through. My head is spinning, and if you interrupt me I fear it will never stop." Hearing her own pronounced brogue only added to her agitation, though she could not have given even herself a reason why.

She flung her cloak over the back of a chair and began pacing along the hearth. "How could that little boy have killed Voldemort" she spat, "and lived? And how did he even find the Potters in the first place, Albus? They had a Secret-Keeper! You can't mean to tell me that Black betrayed James and Lily Potter!" She said it as a statement of fact, but a brief pause in her nervous hand gestures indicated a hidden insecurity. Her heart had all but stopped when Hagrid announced he had seen Sirius to borrow his motorcycle and was going back to return it, but Albus had not reacted and she followed his lead. Still, the very thought that Sirius could have betrayed Lily and James was too horrific for her to comprehend. Minerva shot an involuntary, fleeting look at Albus, but he said nothing. The ridiculous idea that he might not even know she was there flashed into her mind but then disappeared as quickly as it had come.

She paused in her pacing to truly look at Albus for the first time since entering his office, but what she saw did nothing to reassure her. His face was haggard, the twinkle missing from his eyes, his posture weary. He looked up at her to show he was still listening and she hesitantly resumed pacing, attempting to gather steam again.

"And do you realize the implications of what we have just done? That woman I saw was Petunia, wasn't it, Albus? She and her husband have been absolutely hateful to Lily, and you know it. How do you expect them to treat her child? Is keeping him sheltered from his fame truly worth risking his well-being and happiness? That cannot be the only reason for your actions."

She stopped suddenly and turned again to face Albus, still sitting quietly. She searched his face intently, looking for some sort of answer to all of her questions, but it was nearly impossible to interpret what she found there. He wasn't hiding behind the usual sparkle in his eye, yet for the life of her Minerva could not describe what she did see. She waited for him to speak, to give her some idea of what he was thinking, but he didn't say a word for nearly a full minute. Her frustration was giving way to concern.

"Albus?"

Albus finally met her eyes and smiled sadly, standing up to place his hand on her arm—a touch that was surely meant to be comforting. "Do try not to worry, Minerva. I am doing what I believe to be best for the boy."

He was trying to placate her. "I trust Petunia to—"

"To hell with your trust!" Minerva roughly pushed his hand away. He looked as if she had physically wounded him, but she raged on. "Albus, I do not trust her! Nor her husband and not even their little brat!" Angry blotches of color covered her cheeks, and she was nearly shaking. "Are you so high above all the rest of us that your own opinion is the only one that matters to you?" Minerva watched him bow his head as she yelled her accusations, but she only felt another rush of anger. She knew he was trying to deny the truth. His truth. Did she not deserve more from him? Hadn't they bared their souls to each other? She had let the bastard get closer to her than anyone else, and in return—"I would have thought your past mistakes had taught you otherwise."

But the instant the bitter words left her mouth she desperately wished she could take them back. Her intense anger turned to sorrow like the flipping of a switch, and she sank weakly into the chair Albus had just left. "I—I didn't…" she trailed off.

Albus's expression was terrible to look at, though he was not looking at her. After a slow, steady breath, he spoke. "I trust Petunia," he said quietly, "because I have to trust her. If I do not…then Harry will never be truly safe. And that is not a risk I am willing to take."

"What?" She had fully expected him to ask her to leave; to tell her that they would speak later—she wouldn't have denied him. He could have even thrown her own flaws back in her face as she had done to him. She had not anticipated any sort of answer.

"The explanation is a knowledge and a burden you do not need to carry, Minerva…."

"No, Albus, no please don't do this." She rushed to his side, grabbing his hand. "No one has been spared of anything in this damned war. What are you keeping from me? What is it you aren't telling me?"

The look he gave her then pierced her with its intensity, and Minerva felt a flicker of fear in the back of her mind. But it was as if he was testing her resolve before answering her, and she held his gaze and nodded, once, mutely.

"Harry's safety was secured by his mother's sacrifice, but it will only be preserved in his living family's bloodline. If he can call Petunia's house a home, it will be the strongest magical protection I can give him."

"Protection," Minerva whispered.

"We have not seen the true end of Lord Voldemort, Minerva, I feel it."

"No…." Minerva wished absurdly for a moment that she could un-hear what he had said. She looked for any trace of deception in his features, but finding none she turned from him to lean against the mantelpiece. Any shred of happiness she might have felt at Voldemort's death, any hope she had dared harbor for the future, vanished. The old, familiar terror returned with paralytic force.

Albus became agitated, as though he, too, were fighting back fear. "I do not know how it might be so, or why I feel it so strongly, but I know that he is still out there." He faced Minerva. "I have already failed Lily and James, but I will not fail their child. No one else will die for my mistakes." He spoke in a whisper, his voice barely audible, but it echoed in the room like a shout. The guilt dripped from every word, and Minerva literally ached to hear him in such obvious pain. But she could not move herself to contradict him, to even comfort him—she would fall apart if she let go of the mantle.

She laughed shortly, ironically. Voldemort could not be dead if he was still destroying a child's life and peoples' friendships.

"Minerva," Albus stepped up behind her and laid his right hand over hers, her knuckles white from their tense grip. She shuddered at the sudden contact, and he gently pulled her from the mantle and turned her around, grasping both of her shoulders. "You know if there was any other way…."

"I do trust you, Albus."

Despite the gravity of the situation he gave her a small smile. "That is much more than a foolish man like me deserves."

Minerva could not return his smile, her eyes filling up with tears, the emotions of the night overcoming her like a sudden wave in the wake of his sincerity.

"You trust her." Her voiced trembled, but she needed to hear him say it again.

"I must."

AN: Thanks to My Dear Professor McGonagall for the prompt and wonderful editing advice! :)