A long time ago in a fandom far, far away ...

[mascaret]

... I sent my HP beta a chapter of a fic. For forty almost three years no one has heard from them her well except for all the times we have chatted on YIM and the phone and the time we took a trip to Boston together! ... until today. Friday when she finally sent the chapter back betaed.

Seriously M you know that I adore you but check your email a little more often, would you?



“Albus, certain things aren’t the way that they used to be and I’ve begun to fear that they won’t ever be the same again.”

It wasn’t the one that he had wanted, but now he had his answer.

Only half listening as Minerva, her voice uncharacteristically hesitant, went on, Albus cursed himself for having put her on the spot like that. Who ever it was who said that not knowing was worse than knowing didn’t know anything. The only thing that he would like more than to take back the question, would be to take back all of the things that he had said and done to dispel the affection that Minerva had once had for him.

“I’m not an idealist. I knew it would take time, but I thought that once the baby was born things would start to go back to the way that they once were.” The hands in Minerva’s lap fidgeted as she sighed and added, “They haven’t.”

“But they still could! Things can still get back to the way they were!” Less tenaciously, he pleaded, “Can’t they?”

Eyes downcast, she continued wringing her hands, but said nothing more.

Albus didn’t know what to think or feel.

Catching her gaze as she attempted to steal a glance at his reaction, he implored her. “Is there no hope? Surely you haven’t given up entirely - have you?”

Minerva blinked. “It’s not as if I haven’t tried.”

By her tone, Albus had the idea that his reaction seemed to surprise, even disappoint her. He couldn’t imagine what kind of a reaction Minerva had been hoping for. Did she think that he should have more clearly seen this coming?

“So that’s it then? You’re done?”

Minerva seemed hurt by the vehemence of his response. “I’m not sure what more I can do right now.”

Her comments - ‘It’s not as if I haven’t tried’ and ‘I’m not sure what more I can do right now’ - was he to take them to mean that she thought that he hadn’t been trying? Was there something more that he could be doing?

He asked her. “What can I do to change your mind?”

That won him a frown. “Albus, it isn’t my mind that has changed and needs changing back … it’s my body.”

He knew she was right. It was her heart that he had turned against him all those months ago. He knew it was all his own doing, still what she had done to him these last few months wasn’t fair - she had allowed him to hope. She had allowed him to believe that things would be all right despite his many, many missteps.

He beseeched her. “Certainly everything can’t be different?”

Getting only a sigh in response caused him to take a less reconciliatory tone. “You were the one that said the past was done with!”

“Albus, what are you getting on about? Do try to stay on topic.”

If nothing else, her sharp response gave him pause. “So what isn’t the way it used to be?”

Not saying a word, Minerva glared at him.

At a loss, Albus too went silent. That served only to make her angrier.

“Don’t pretend you haven’t noticed, Albus! I’ve gained enough weight to be able to raid Binns’s cupboard for clothes!”

That was an exaggeration and an extreme one to be sure, but finally something clicked. Still, Albus had had enough. He had to be sure of his situation. “So just to be entirely clear - we haven’t been intimate the past several months because during the course of the pregnancy that provided us with the little imp that we both adore beyond all reason, you gained enough weight to be mistaken in passing for Binns, but …“ Albus paused to be certain he had this last part perfectly clear “… you have not stopped loving me?”

“I think I might have with that Binns comment.” Minerva offered dryly.

“You said it first!”

“That’s hardly the point!”

On a slightly different note, Albus had to ask. “Do you really think that I would care? Do you really think me that shallow?”

Minerva snapped at him. “Oh for Merlin’s sake! Must you make everything be about you?”

When he failed to respond, she clarified. “I’m that shallow.”

“Oh!”

Foundering in the silence that followed, Albus grasped for something, anything to do or say. His gaze fell upon Minerva’s recently abandoned parchments. “As my plans for the evening seem to have fallen through, may I offer my assistance in grading your papers?”

Not getting a response, he feebly offered. “Or perhaps I could interest you in a game of chess?”

While that got him a response, it was merely an exaggerated eye roll.

With a glance to the window where the light was waning, but still quite present, Minerva made a suggestion. “Can I presume that along with arranging childcare, you have cleared your schedule all the way through until the morning?”

At his nod of affirmation, she continued. “Can I also presume that you have arranged dinner?”

Albus said nothing, but with the flick of his wand the nearby table was set - complete with the meal that he had had the elves specially prepare and a replacement bottle of wine.

Eyeing the bottle, Minerva made a suggestion. “It is early yet. Before we resort to chess, why don’t we just open the wine and just see where the evening takes us?”

From her look to the window, Albus inferred, correctly, that this time her ‘early’ did refer to the hour. It seemed her newly developed sense of modesty desired the cover of darkness before anything of the unseemly variety might or might not happen.

Albus smiled. “You are right. There is no need to rush anything.” Or anyone. “We may not have all the time in the world, but we certainly have all of tonight.”

He knew he had answered correctly by the change in her body language. As she took a seat on the sofa, she seemed more relaxed than she had been at any previous point in their conversation.

Though the silence that ensued was not at all awkward as it had been mere moments before, Albus still felt the need to fill the silence. Taking a seat bedside her, conversationally, he inquired. “Did you happen to see the article in today’s Prophet?”

She gave him a look of annoyance, one appropriate to his having mentioned the paper-that-shall-not-be-named in her presence. “I don’t read that rag.”

“Ah yes.” Albus acknowledged his gaffe. “There was the most interesting article though …”

When he neglected to elaborate, Minerva prompted him. “About?”

“Did you know that there is to be a total solar eclipse?”

Minerva’s eyes narrowed with suspicion. “When?”

Taking out his wand, Albus answered. “Now.”

While he could have done without the cushion to his face, the warm breath of her amused laughter on his neck, he could not.

“””””””””””””””””””””””””””

For the past sixteen years, Albus had been in the habit of watching Minerva drift off to sleep in his arms after they had made love. While not as much as the activities that preceded it, he enjoyed the quiet moments, the blissful expression of her face, the satiated feel of her body against him, and the occasional purring. To him, it had become something of a package deal.

But not tonight. While she certainly seemed to have enjoyed their activities, afterwards she seemed almost restless.

Fairly confident of what the problem was, he waited a few minutes to see if she would settle. He could tell that she was trying, but something was missing. He felt it too.

Slightly amused, he again kissed her. “Shall we go get him?”

Looking slightly abashed, Minerva nodded.

Earlier, while in the moment, she seemed to have forgotten to be modest, but now that the moment had passed, she seemed to recall her newfound modesty. Albus shook his head, but refrained from commenting as she turned to shield her body from his view as she dressed.

Given their early start, the hour was still early. Filius would not yet have turned the baby over to Poppy for the evening. Making himself invisible, Albus accompanied Minerva to Filius’s rooms.

Albus thought that the mouse tied to a stick that Filius tried to hide behind his back was the reason Minerva thanked her fellow professor so curtly for watching the baby. On the way back to her rooms, he discovered otherwise.

“Don’t let Filius watch the baby again.”

Not thinking it through that he was invisible, Albus turned to her with his eyebrows raised.

He was preparing to make himself and his questioning eyebrows visible when without prompting she went on. “The man is a lush! The baby reeks of wine just from having been in the room with him!”

Murmuring what he hoped sounded like adequate outrage, Albus decided to remain invisible, lest his expression give away his guilt.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Seated at his desk, Albus cringed as Minerva again uttered a curse loudly enough to be heard through the door and down the staircase. His thought a few weeks earlier that perhaps he was wrong in not discouraging the baby’s attempts to nip had been right.

Now that the baby’s teeth had started to come in, the habit was no longer amusing or harmless.

Albus had been the victim several times now, but as the one attempting to put a part of her anatomy in the vicinity of those new teeth multiple times a day, Minerva was bearing the brunt of the problem.

He was just thinking that if this was to keep up, he would have to reapply the muffling charms to the doors and walls when the door to the upstairs slammed.

Hearing the click of Minerva’s heels on the stairs, Albus attempted to look busy instead of guilty. Failing at both, he soon found Minerva thrusting the baby upon him.

Conjuring a bottle, she half-shouted at the baby. “You’re weaned!”

Albus shrugged to the baby as they watched Minerva stomp out the door.

“””””””””””””””””””

Arthur Weasley remembered all too well the last time Professor McGonagall had paid a visit to his office in the Magical Law Enforcement Department. Try as he might, he couldn’t will himself to forget.

She had arrived with another professor as escort then too. While Professor McGonagall had taken the seat he offered, Professor Kettleburn had preferred to remain standing … as close to the door as possible.

The picture of innocence back then, Arthur had politely asked. “What can I do for you today, Professors?”

“How to begin?” Professor McGonagall had taken a deep breath before embarking on a fanciful tale. “You see, late one night the month before last …”

As Professor McGonagall had gone on talking - in between bouts of laughter - Arthur had nodded and smiled. Trying not to keep looking at his watch, he had waited for the punch line. The way she couldn’t keep herself together, he knew it had to be a good one.

Arthur looked to Professor Kettleburn leaning against the door frame. He looked bored - even annoyed. The older man, Arthur supposed, had already heard the story.

As Arthur waited and waited his smile became fixed and artificial. Gradually, he began to wonder if it truly was laughter that she was struggling to hold in each time she covered her face with her hands and her shoulders shook. He looked to the other man for guidance, but Professor Kettleburn refused to meet his eyes.

Arthur waited and waited, but the funny part didn’t come. Eventually, his smile began to fail.

But if it wasn’t a joke, Arthur couldn’t for the life of him figure out why she would be telling him of all people this - until she got to the end.

Given that Arthur still didn’t consider himself over the shock of it all, he couldn’t imagine that she was. He didn’t doubt that her visit today had something to do with it. Was she here to berate the Ministry, through him, for their lack of progress in her case?

Or did she come to seek an investigation into the identity of the person who had sold the pictures of her baby to the Daily Prophet. True, that edition had run months ago, but Arthur couldn’t think of any other reason for her presence before him in his office in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

Confident that that had to be it, he spared her from having to ask. “Professor, the very day that those photos were published, we opened an investigation. I went to the offices of the Prophet myself, but I’m afraid they weren’t very helpful. Without their cooperation, I don’t believe we will be able to determine who it was that leaked those photographs. Perhaps, if you were to go yourself and make a direct ap -”

Professor McGonagall interrupted him. “That’s not why I’m here.”

“No?” Arthur asked hesitantly.

She shook her head.

Arthur looked to Professor Dumbledore. As when he had tried to look to Professor Kettleburn for help, he found none. Busy bouncing the ‘baby’ - who incidentally looked nothing like his photograph - on his knee, Professor Dumbledore avoided his gaze. So as not to stare at the ‘baby,’ Arthur kept his gaze fixed on Professor McGonagall.

Trying not to think of the similarities between this meeting and the last, he forced himself to ask. “So what is it that I can do for you today, Professor?”

Her words came out so casually. “It’s happened again.”

Truly horrified, Arthur exclaimed. “More pictures have been taken!”

“No ...”

Mollified, but confused, Arthur asked. “What’s happened again?”

Too demure to answer, with a tilt of her head, Professor McGonagall indicated Professor Dumbledore.

It took a no longer so innocent Arthur a moment to realize that it wasn’t Professor Dumbledore that she was indicating. In that moment, he also realized that he simply had to get out of this department.

“””””””””””””””””””””

“Damn her! I take back what I said about goblins being worse gossips than Poppy.”

While Albus agreed, right now standing over the basin of the pensieve was hardly the time to be worrying about Poppy.

To stave off trouble since Poppy had let slip that Minerva’s half-kneazle-to-be had the same father as the half-kneazle she already had, Minerva had decided to voluntarily submit a record of the memory of the two incidents to the Ministry. Given Minerva’s forethought in the matter, collecting the memories wouldn’t be too difficult. They didn’t have to fabricate anything - just very carefully truncate the memories. Besides satisfying the suspicion and curiosity of … well everybody, it would hopefully take care of the renewed interest of a certain member of the Board of Governors.

“What was she thinking -“

Albus scolded Minerva as she again lost focus while thinking about Poppy. “- Concentrate! This has to seem seamless!”

“Tampering with evidence?”

So wrapped up were they in what they were trying to accomplish, neither had noticed the grating of the stone steps as they moved, nor the opening of the door.

Or as the newly arrived Figg so aptly put it, “Thick as thieves, you two always seem to be.”

“I’ll just be going then.” Watching Kettleburn slink back out of the room, Dumbledore made a mental note to change the password to his office and this time not to include it in the weekly staff memorandum.

Figg wagged a finger in Minerva’s direction. “Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.”

“Lovely.” Minerva shot back. “Tell me, did you think of that all by yourself?”

“Laugh all you like. By this time next week, you will be lucky to be out on the streets and not in Azkaban.” Savoring the moment, Figg paused before delivering his next words. “You are to be brought before the Wizengamot.”

Figg proffered a sealed envelope that Albus immediately recognized as an official Wizengamot summons.

Though he was the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, this was the first that Albus was hearing of it. While he understood the logic of not including him in the handling of a case involving a member of the staff at his school, he didn’t have to like it.

Stepping forward to take the parchment for Minerva, Albus demanded. “On what grounds?”

“Filing a false report.” Figg grinned smugly. “Reporting a crime that never happened actually is a crime. Now tell me, Albus, what makes you care so bloody much? I mean, doctoring memories? That is beneath even you.”

Albus attempted what little damage control he could muster. “Whatever you think you might have overheard, I was merely assisting Professor McGonagall in collecting her memories.”

Figg’s gaze traveled back and forth between the two. “Of course if the kneazle story is codswallop - and we all know it is - that leaves the question of just who is the father of the little mongrels. Maybe you have a more vested interest in the situation than I thought?”

Lest he say something ill advised, Albus kept his defense simple. “Mongrels are dogs. Now I suggest you leave while you are still able to of your own volition.”

Satisfied that he was close to getting what he wanted, Figg offered no resistance - just a parting warning. “Oh and Dumbledore, don’t even bother getting out your alchemy set - I’ll be providing the Veritaserum.”

Figg’s ranting had wandered so close to the truth, Albus found himself at a loss for words.

Minerva shrugged off the visit - or at least attempted to. Her voice lacked its usual confidence. “Veritaserum … well, it’s hardly unexpected. We’ll be fine. I have it all worked out. It’s simply a matter of making sure that the questions are phrased the right way.”

Genuinely curious, Albus asked. “How are you going to manage to do that?”

Minerva frowned. “Well, I haven’t exactly worked that part out yet.”

After a pause she asked. “Any ideas?”

“No.” Albus admitted.

Minerva waved a hand dismissively, trying to hide her nervousness. “No matter.”

Silence ensued as they both pondered their quandary seeking a solution.

It was Albus who finally broke the silence. “Let’s get married!”

“What?”

“Let people think or say whatever they like - to hell with them all.” Albus took her hand in his and repeated. “Let’s get married.”

Minerva looked first dumbstruck, then horrified. She pulled her fingers from his grasp. “Have you lost what little sense you ever had?”

When ever before Albus had envisioned asking Minerva for her hand in marriage, this had not have been the response that he had envisioned. Still, he took it in stride. “Perhaps.”

Minerva seemed not to be taking his suggestion nearly as well. “Have you forgotten the reasoning behind this little charade? Do you think that this was all done for your amusement?”

Her berating of him grounded him … somewhat. “What about a secret marriage? We could have a very intimate ceremony - just you and I, Waldorf, perhaps Alastor and Poppy as our two witnesses - well perhaps not Poppy, but - “

Rather than be delighted by the prospect, Minerva became angry … or was it frightened? Her voice went up several octaves. “- Two witnesses too many!”

Albus frowned. “It not as if I suggested inviting Aberforth.” Even he realized that that was out of the question. While he had no fears about Aberforth betraying them to Voldemort, Albus also had no doubt that for two sickles and a knut Aberforth would cheerfully sell them out to The Daily Prophet. “Surely you don’t think Alastor or Poppy would sell us out to Voldemort?”

“It would get out!”

While Albus didn’t think that even Poppy would be so careless as to let slip so dangerous a bit of knowledge, he had to admit that this particular tidbit - a factoid that would certainly trump whatever gossip anyone else could bring to the table - would be sorely tempting. Still … “Minerva, I think it could be done. I really do.”

She backed away from him as if this particular madness of his might be contagious. “We both know, somehow, someway it would get out!”

He knew she was right. Poppy and Alastor were two of their dearest friends right now, but circumstances changed. Who knew what the future might hold for either of them?

If ever either were in danger what choices might they make in a moment of desperation? Certainly the two were no longer an item, but that wasn’t to say that one or both couldn’t go on to have children with someone else. And if Voldemort and his followers should ever arrive at their doorstep in the night, what then? Albus could hardly expect their loyalty to him to outweigh that for their own family.

A betrayal need not even be deliberate. Voldemort was a Legilimens - if Moody were ever captured - not an unheard of possibility given his line of work - what secrets might he unwillingly be made to share?

And it was hardly as if Voldemort was the only Legilimens out there. The Ministry had in its employ an entire department - albeit a small one recently made all the more smaller by the transferring of two members to Azkaban on Albus’s say so. The skill was a difficult one, but not an impossible one. How many other people, unknown to him, had managed to master it?

She was right. A marriage here before their friends wasn’t possible. Still, Albus found himself unable to give up the idea entirely. “What about a secret muggle marriage? You know, I‘ve heard of a place in the Americas where you can get married without ever leaving your automobile.

She was adamant. “No!”

He tried to reason with her. “I know it seems lately as if Voldemort’s spies are everywhere, but really, what are the chances that they would be in Nevada of all places?”

Minerva was beginning to sound desperate. “Albus no!”

“Doesn’t a part of you want the world to know? Isn’t there some small part that wants, if not everyone, then at least someone, somewhere to know that I love you and that these are the children that we have created together?”

Still, with that one word, she persisted. “No!”

Into his sullen silence, she added. “Albus, please be sensible! We’ve talked of this before. We agreed that it can never happen!”

“Never.” He repeated dully.

Minerva sighed. “Maybe not never, but …” Minerva trailed off, unable to offer a timeline.

He knew it wasn’t the case, but he still had to ask. “It’s not that you wouldn’t marry me now? Not if I asked you a hundred times?”

Returning to him, she laid her hands on either side of his face. “Oh Albus, no! It’s not that!”

Tearfully, she finally admitted. “I’m frightened, Albus. I’m so very frightened. You were right. Everything you said before - you were right. It would provoke him; he would see it as a challenge to get to us. At the time, I thought it wouldn’t matter, that we would do what we needed to do to protect our children, but now - now that we have them I see that you were right. I love you. I do - you know that, but I can’t abide even the thought of anything happening to them. I could never do anything that would put our children at risk.”

What Minerva said, it was prudent. He knew she was right. It made sense and yet, it hurt that she didn’t think that he could keep her and their children safe - even if it was true.

“You don’t trust that I could keep you safe?”

“Oh Albus! It’s not that. It’s not! I know that you would do all that you could - that you would give your life to protect us, but I couldn’t allow for it to come to that. We know what we feel for each other and our children. Is having some paper to prove it to the world really worth the risk it would put us at?”

“No.” He acknowledged at last.

“Albus … there is something else … something that we should have discussed before now …”

Even without her hesitation, just the torn expression on her face made him wary.

***



I don't think I'll bother posting this to fanfiction.net unless I actually finish off the drafts of the last few chapters of the story - as if I don't already have enough WIP going.

This gives me hope though that maybe someday not very soon the person who volunteered last November to beta my BSG works will actually send back those chapters of Curtain Call!