Albus and Gellert's search for the Elder Wand remained fruitless throughout October. They roamed the shop thrice undetected, but each trip was truncated by Gregorovitch's unanticipated appearance. By their fourth attempt, Gregorovitch discovered their wards, after which members of the Magical Law Enforcement Squad remained on guard at all times. Recognizing that their chances were few, the boys returned to Hogwarts to review their tactics.

Unfortunately, little spare time remained for them both, as Minerva's detentions stretched across the last two weeks of the month.

Gellert was tasked with dropping off the Headmaster's letters at the doorsteps of Muggle-born wizards and witches for Hogwarts's mid-year intake. He was to deliver some fifty letters in two weeks. Once Minerva's tracking spell turned active, he could apparate outside of campus grounds.

The task did not rest well with Gellert. How he despised the notion of visiting the Muggle world, not to mention inviting the inferior into their realm. He had defied Minerva's instructions every night, by dumping the envelopes on the sidewalk, burning them with Incendio, and rearranging the alphabets to word an admittance letter to the local asylum. Minerva had found his methods rather creative and entertaining.

Both teacher and student knew that she did not entrust to him the real letters, but the task itself was taxing enough. Eventually she transfigured the letters into Howlers that exploded upon his unsuccessful delivery. Ultimately, it was Albus's persuasion that pushed Gellert to complete his tasks on time, saving him from an extension to his torturous detentions.

Conversely, Albus was surprisingly obedient. In two weeks he was to wandlessly clear a patch of land near the Forbidden Forest, to flatten the ground and revegetate the surrounds with young cherry blossoms. The spot would later become the location of Hagrid's Hut. Minerva watched him carry an axe towards the Forest every evening, and came back at midnight with his robes torn and muddy, and twigs entangled in his hair. He was always humming an upbeat tune when he climbed back up the hill, and he would wave at her whenever he spotted her watching through her window. In five days, the patch was as habitable as can be without the hut in place.

With nine evenings of detention remaining, Minerva asked Albus to mark her First Years' assignments, a task she knew he could accomplish effortlessly. His detentions usually ended with chess games and hot chocolate, until eventually he had marked all her papers, except those above O.W.L. which she reserved for herself. They spent their time chatting instead, and to each it involved many fascinating discoveries.

Two weeks came to an end, but Albus found reasons to visit her office just the same. Their encounter at Gregorovitch's was not forgotten but cautiously unmentioned. Albeit reluctantly, Minerva admitted that nothing alerted her more than the characteristic knock on her door at nine o'clock sharp.

She was falling deeper for him, if it was at all possible.

It was dangerous and wrong on too many levels to count. Rather than a simple question of propriety - which they were violating in like manner, she had probably broken ninety-nine rules out of a hundred regarding time travel. Her continued subsistence was her only proof that she had not yet broken every existing rule. Given the tremendous amount of disruption she must have bestowed upon the universe, she wondered at which point she would eventually undo her own birth and erase her existence altogether.

As Minerva watched the auburn-haired devil cock his head to one side in deep contemplation for his next chess move, she smiled wistfully. She could not even blame herself for failing to resist the temptation.

For ten years, she thought he was gone. Ten years she had lived in solitude, in longing. For all the peace and order he had strived to maintain in her world, her world was shattered the moment he - selflessly and selfishly - took his departure. So for ten years, part of her had been waiting. She knew, if he had known, that he would have been disappointed. For she was waiting, ironically, for the same someone who took him to take her as well.

Yet now he was back. He was equally witty, equally mischievous, and equally compassionate. Above all else, he was alive.

How could she resist?

Meanwhile, news of the Triwizard Tournament flooded the Hogwarts corridors. The upcoming Yule Ball in particular had become the center of excitement. By Armando's request, Minerva taught dancing lessons to the upper years. The arrangement was much to Albus's amusement and Gellert's disgust.

Fortunately, it was to the advantage of the more reluctant that the seventh year boys outnumbered the girls. Arcturus Black and Belvina Black were the last pair to advance onto the dance floor upon Minerva's incessant urging.

Gellert dragged Albus to one side as the music started. Elphias was sitting on a bench, engrossed in his Care of Magical Creatures notes. Not far away, Septimus Weasley was leaning against a wall with his arms crossed, humming along in amusement as the swaying couples stepped on each other's toes. He was also bracing himself for someone to knock Filius Flitwick over.

"You dragged me out of the Room for this?" Gellert asked incredulously.

"I thought a break would do you good." Albus shrugged carelessly. Leaning in, he lowered his voice into a whisper. "You heard the Headmaster, this is a mandatory course. You add one more misdemeanor to your records and the Headmaster will send you straight back to Durmstrang."

Gellert groaned. "You're only abiding because Marie's teaching it."

Minerva was surveying the dancing students, while correcting their postures, and naming the moves they did wrong. To her displeasure, when the first batch of students cleared her examination, she noticed Albus and Gellert standing idly by the benches. As she approached them, Septimus, who was trying to blend into the background, and Elphias, who had unwittingly blended into the background, also came into view.

She came to a stop and started tapping her feet impatiently. "What are you four doing here?"

"Breathing," Gellert grumbled, just as Albus elbowed him in the ribs.

Minerva's eyebrows rose higher at his blatant disrespect. "Get up now, find a partner and join your classmates." She commanded, waving her wand in a shooing gesture. "I won't let you leave without three dances each."

"All the girls are taken, Professor. Perhaps you would like to join me?" Albus extended his hand in hopes that Minerva would take his, but her eyes were cold and her voice colder still.

"Unless you four are physically incapable, I see no reason that you cannot find a partner among yourselves," she chided.

"You must be joking." Septimus groaned.

"I certainly am not, Mr. Weasley. Oh, do come by my office so I can evaluate your choice of attire on the night of the ball." Minerva added, remembering the hideous outfit Ronald Weasley had managed to find for his night. The image was embedded in her mind as a reminder of Weasley aesthetics. In case his suit needed transfiguration, she could make the necessary changes for him.

"Come now, two by two. Choose your partner." She urged impatiently.

Gellert deliberated momentarily before turning to Albus, only to realize that the space beside him was empty. Albus and Elphias joined the dance floor as the rest of the class hooted and cheered. Gellert scowled.

"Guess it's just you and me, mate." The redhead patted his shoulder in a manner too affectionate for his comfort.

"I don't dance." Gellert grunted in response. He was about to leave the room, regardless of Albus's warning, when he felt an uncommonly strong tug on his robes.

"Oh, believe me, pal, I hate to do this as much as you do." Septimus grabbed the back of Gellert's collar and started dragging him onto the dance floor, much to the latter's horror. "But we don't have a choice, come on!"

Minerva waved her hand again and the music resumed. Albus led Elphias smoothly along with other practising couples, while flashing her an occasional grin. Following closely behind was a reluctant and almost furious Gellert Grindelwald dragged along like a marionette by a determined Septimus Weasley. They stumbled, yelped, groaned, and generally tramped on each other's toes until both faces were flushed beyond compare.

Minerva watched the pair fall into place with ill-masked amusement. For all the points she had docked from Albus since she caught him at Gregorovitch's, Mr. Weasley might win some back for Gryffindor.

The Durmstrang and Beauxbatons contestants arrived at Hogwarts on the last day of October. There were only a handful that came, and none were particularly impressive. Young Olympe Maxime was the only exception. Minerva could recognize the half-giantess and future Beauxbatons Headmistress from any distance away.

It was Minerva's good fortune that the current Headmaster of Beauxbatons was otherwise occupied and could not attend the Tournament himself. Minerva was not exceptionally enthusiastic about explaining her backstory as a Beauxbatons alumni to less gullible listeners.

When their guests were properly introduced, Armando revealed the Goblet of Fire. Blue-white flames roared high above the brim as he vanished the jewelled casket. The Triwizard Champions would be selected in five days. With a sincere warning and half-hearted encouragement, he bid the applicants good luck and announced the beginning of their feast.

When Albus visited her quarters that evening, Minerva did not lay out the chessboard as she usually did. He saw her sitting by the fireplace, her hands clasped primly on her knee, her emerald eyes chained to the brilliant, blooming flames. She nodded in acknowledgement as he sank down into the chair opposite hers.

"You remind me of Elphias." He remarked with a charming smile.

"Physically or intellectually?" She replied offhandedly.

"Neither," he chuckled. He tapped his lips with his finger intently as though he was struggling to link her to a mental image of his best friend. He uttered 'ah' in fake realization, clapping his hands dramatically to enhance the effect. "Elphias was worried that I would participate in the Triwizard Tournament."

She snorted. "You say it as though you will not."

"What a wonderful coincidence." He leaned back against his chair nonchalantly. "That is exactly what I was thinking."

"Oh, do humor me, Mr. Dumbledore." She mocked, rolling her eyes.

"I mean it." He stressed, resting both hands on the arms of his chair. His expression was serious. "I don't intend to join the Triwizard Tournament. You shouldn't worry."

"I'm not worried," she snapped defensively.

"But you are, Professor." He stated firmly, and for a moment he could tell that she felt uncomfortably exposed. He added quietly, "I'm not blind. Your concern is apparent in your eyes. And I appreciate it-" He clarified quickly. "But I'm just stating the facts."

She fell silent, as if she had come to terms with his aggravating ability to see through her. Then she shut her eyes, seemingly weighing the truth in his statement. At last, she uttered in a small voice, intoned with just a trace of plea, "Your word, Albus?"

She did not notice her use of his first name, but he did. Slowly he nodded. "My word."

Minerva breathed a sigh of relief. Sensing that the argument was settled, she pointed her wand at her shelves and levitated her chessboard to the table between them. As the chess pieces rose to life, her cautious emerald eyes met his brilliant blue ones again. They were finally rid of soundless trepidation.

"I will be very disappointed if that is a lie." She reiterated still, but what followed was a genuine smile.

"Most Head of Houses would say the contrary, especially Professor Merrythought. She likes pushing her favorites onto the battlefield." He noted lightheartedly.

"She does, doesn't she?" Minerva replied, feigning a soft chuckle. Ironically, she would have done the same, if the game was Quidditch. But this was the infamous Triwizard Tournament, and one fatal accident was enough to deter her for life.

"Her priorities are different, of course," he said, without commenting on her troubled expression. To distract her, he gave his command, "Pawn to d4." His black figurine started moving across the board.

"White always moves first in my time." She commented carelessly. "Pawn to d5."

"Conventional, but not compulsory." He pointed out. "Pawn to c4."

"If I remember correctly, it was stated in a Muggle rulebook." She contended, getting into the heat of the argument. The vision of a lifeless, limp Cedric Diggory that had temporarily invaded her thoughts was quickly forgotten.

"Ah, word takes a while to travel to our world," he mused aloud. "Wouldn't that give White an inherent advantage over Black?"

"Marginally." She retorted, watching her pawn take his at the center of the board.

"A determining factor, if not a game between novices." He moved another pawn while watching her expression fixedly. "You seem curiously pertained to an era that I know nothing of."

"Nonsense." She quipped, revealing nothing as she realized her own mistake.

"If you say so, Professor."

Minerva won the game in two hours, to Albus's disappointment. He gulped the last of his hot chocolate and returned to his dormitories. She remained seated as her grotesquely maimed figurines gathered their detached heads and limbs, and gingerly reorganized themselves on her chessboard.

Heedlessly her eyes travelled to a stack of books she had half-hidden behind her desk. On top of them all was the library's only copy of The Tales of Beedle the Bard. She had yet to name the overwhelming urge that had possessed her to confiscate those books, many of which detailing the dark arts, but she had acted on impulse. Regardless of how they were obtained, the books were now in her retention.

First Gregorovitch's, then the books, and now her blatant discouragement to Albus's application into the Triwizard Tournament. How obsessively overprotective had she gotten?

She sighed and downed the rest of her tea. The blend tasted cold and bitter on her tongue. As she eyed Albus's empty cup across the table, she wished she had asked the house elves to bring her hot chocolate instead. The sweet luxury always reminded her of her dear Professor Dumbledore, and in situations like this, he always knew what to do.

Friday came faster than to Minerva's liking. She was standing beside Armando, who was about to announce the third Triwizard Champion. Beauxbatons Champion Olympe Maxime and Durmstrang Champion Gellert Grindelwald were both standing onstage. Minerva was not surprised that Olympe scored better than her schoolmates. Even in Minerva's time as a student, the half-giantess was famed for her immense strength and resilience. Gellert's participation was more to her astonishment, for he did not seem remotely interested in these events.

The Goblet spat a mouthful of red flames and a small piece of parchment shot up into the air. Armando raised his hand to catch the third parchment, which drifted left and right but eventually in his direction.

Minerva's attention was fixed on the parchment. Discounting Albus, few candidates remained. Filius was the next logical assumption, for he was almost as skilled as Albus. Seeing that he had become a Dueling Champion, he had sought fame and glory as much as anyone. Marvolo Gaunt's violent temper would surely remove him from the list, despite his undeniable powers. She could not imagine Slughorn in this effortful race for glory; race for the viewing stands, yes. The Black siblings had a chance if the others did not beat them to it. She was moving on to recount the possible candidates in her own house when Armando's face lit up in delight.

"And the Hogwarts Champion is… Albus Dumbledore!"

She froze. For all his promises, he had lied to her.

Albus rose from his seat, grinning, as Septimus patted his back encouragingly. Elphias smiled weakly, but clapped nonetheless. Most of Hogwarts broke into enthusiastic applause and cheers, except the Slytherins, who wore bitter grimaces as the Gryffindor crossed his bench and approached the stage.

Yet when he came forth, Minerva knew something was wrong.

He was bowing and raising his hand in acknowledgement to the deafening cheers sounding from behind, but his brilliant blue eyes were not as calm as the front he had put up.

Minerva recognized it instantly. It was not him who had betrayed her, it was someone else who had set him up. It all felt eerily familiar. And familiar things in her later life often led to disaster.

Armando shook Albus's hand warmly and welcomed him onto the stage. Obviously the Headmaster was very pleased that the ace of Hogwarts had come up to fight in Hogwarts's name. Albus walked to the front and stood next to Gellert. For one fleeting second, he caught Minerva's eye. His calm, confident expression was overlaid by an almost unnoticeable hint of confusion and nervousness.

Minerva turned away eventually, knowing that their display was under the scrutiny of all the occupants in the Great Hall. She would have to question him later.

Albus was at Minerva's chambers the following hours. She had some warm drinks ready, but the chessboard was nowhere in sight. When she came into view, her eyes shone of worry, and her hair was undone. His eyes caught onto a bottle of Firewhiskey standing on her desk.

"You did not put your name into the Goblet of Fire." It was a statement, not a question.

"No," He admitted. Her acute observation did save him a lot of explanation. "But you should know best that the Goblet chooses the contestant. Whoever nominated me has not left me a chance."

She sank into her chair with a muffled grunt. "This has happened before," She muttered quietly to herself. "You can't withdraw now." She then said in a louder, audible voice.

"No, I cannot." He agreed solemnly. Then he gleamed. "But it is an interesting opportunity."

"Do you even know what you're up against?" She snapped, his nonchalant response maddening to her ears. "This tournament is extremely dangerous. There is a reason why some parents want it banned."

"I understand, but I trust that our professors would strive to keep us safe. Alive, at least." There came another grunt from her direction, but he ignored her unlettered complaint. "This is what happens when the caster of the spell that secures the Goblet is not skillful enough." He shrugged helplessly.

"The Headmaster is plenty skillful, mind you." She retorted.

"But not enough, apparently. Someone managed to breach his ward."

She nodded weakly, silently acknowledging that Armando's inability was a determining reason that the ploy was successful. "I should have added an extra layer of protection."

"I'll be fine, Professor." He smiled reassuringly. His confidence did not falter despite her warnings. "It is but a game. How dangerous can it be?"

Minerva shook her head. "You don't want to know."

He chuckled and turned away. Suddenly his attention was trained to the shelf behind her. "You have a copy of…" He faltered.

She turned around uncertainly, then she blanched. He had noticed the new stack of books lying on her shelf, including The Tales of Beedle the Bard. She was going to put the books away earlier, but the news of Albus becoming Hogwarts's Champion jumbled her tasks completely.

"We just- I thought-" He stammered, which was unusual for him, then he found his words. "Sorry, I was just surprised to see it here. That book was missing from the library."

"I see," she said quietly. If Albus had known that the book was missing, Gellert would likely have noticed the same. The conspicuous Hogwarts Library stamp on the spine stopped her from formulating an outrageous lie. She downtoned it in her mind and explained, "I am rather stressed lately, so I thought my favorite book from my childhood would ease my mind… Perhaps you shouldn't stay here for too long, Mr. Dumbledore. I'd like to get some rest."

"Of course, Professor." He recovered from his momentary surprise, but she saw the suspicious glint that passed his features. "I'll see you tomorrow."

When he was finally gone, Minerva went up to her desk and uncorked her bottle of Firewhiskey. She much preferred Gillywater, for she was not particularly alcohol tolerant, but she liked the burning sensation that accompanied the stronger drink. She felt that she needed it anyway.

So she downed half a glass, then another half, until slowly her world turned into a dizzying swirl of colors. In her dizziness, all she registered was that she was in the Deputy Headmistress's office. Not the Headmistress's, not her Seventh Year dormitories, not her Auror training quarters. She was where she was supposed to be, where she had been for half a century.

It meant that Albus was in the Headmaster's office, probably writing his replies to the incompetent Cornelius Fudge. Maybe he wanted to see her. It couldn't be that late-

She climbed out of her chair and stumbled towards the door, a half-filled glass still clutched in her hand. Then she tripped, quite unceremoniously, and she landed onto the carpet. It was where she fell unconscious until morning.

Minerva soon accepted that Albus's fate was sealed regarding the Triwizard Tournament. He was a Champion, and no amount of worrying would change that. They met as frequently as possible. That is, when Minerva was not otherwise occupied by work, and Albus was not chained to his assignments, Quidditch training, or Gellert's extremely time-consuming schemes.

"Expelliarmus," he said. "Say I didn't miss, and you didn't deflect it. You are now disarmed. Will you declare defeat?"

They were duelling verbally alongside playing chess in her chambers. Minerva insisted that they discuss dueling tactics, in case dueling came forth in the Tournament. In fact, she wanted to duel him physically for practice, but he was fiercely against the notion. Ultimately she dropped the suggestion.

"Cheater," she grumbled accusingly, obviously geared towards the many assumptions that followed his incantation. Verbal dueling was theoretical training and not of much use, but it has its merits. They could address all possibilities, however unlikely, that might happen in an actual fight. However, it would not be easy for him to disarm her with a basic spell when dueling face-to-face.

He smiled pleasantly, waiting for an answer, and she rolled her eyes.

"No," she said simply, moving her chess piece with her hand. "I'd use a blast of Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder if I had it with me, but I'm inclined to believe that I won't. In that case, I'll Confund you or use Nox Maxima to blind you, then probably bend to fetch my wand. That is to assume we are not dueling on a cliff and my wand was not plunged into a hundred-foot waterfall."

"Confundus is not an easy spell to perform wandlessly," he pointed out.

"Expelliarmus is not a difficult spell to block," she countered dryly.

"Touché."

"Trust me, Mr. Dumbledore, Confundus is a spell that I can do in my sleep," she assured him. "My choices are a tad more effective than Accio. I've seen time and again wizards and witches thinking they could summon a wand after being disarmed. It's high time that someone address the ineffectiveness of wandless summoning charms in Hogwarts's Charms curriculum."

"By that logic, the disarming spell is the most potent defensive charm, is it not?"

"If you have a brilliant aim and your opponent is absolute rubbish at casting protective charms." She shrugged, "But yes, I've seen great wizards use it against the killing curse."

"Successfully?" He asked in mild astonishment.

"Yes," she said simply.

"Extraordinary," he said, seeming genuinely impressed. "Why haven't I heard of that before?"

"You're too young to have heard of it." She almost snorted. She would never have dreamed of describing Albus Dumbledore as 'too young', and to his face, no less. But Expelliarmus was made famous by Harry Potter. For that reason, Albus was really too young to have known about all that had happened in the Second Wizarding War. Then again, he never lived long enough to witness the final battle, she thought morosely.

Judging from his raised eyebrow, he was still unconvinced. "Yet such a feat was not written into 'A History of Magic'?"

"Not yet," Minerva spoke the truth. She added, though falsely, "But I'll speak to the publisher."

Albus paused, assessing the duel in his mind. Few opponents would refuse to surrender after being disarmed, for without a wand to aim, said wizard or witch would have to relinquish all offensive spells and most defensive spells. "You know, you can always run," he suggested.

"I will never." Minerva spat with disgust.

"Not to surrender." Albus clarified quickly, "Just to reorient yourself, perhaps hide behind a column. It gives you a second of preparation to land a physical attack."

"Oh, I don't need a column to stay hidden, Mr. Dumbledore," she smirked.

"A disillusionment charm then?"

She shook her head. "Transformation."

He appeared dumbfounded. Hesitantly, he verified, "As in human transfiguration?"

"No, as in this." Minerva startled him by changing into her feline form within a blink of his eyes. Her tail swished left and right as she watched him through dark slits in emerald wells. He wore the same expression as Ronald Weasley when she first transformed before him, minus his unpolished outburst. But this was Albus, her mentor, the all-knowing wizard who had trained her to become an Animagus. Impressing him brought about a whole new level of satisfaction. She transformed back, watching him smugly. "I'd still need a shrub to hide, of course."

"Of course," Albus echoed blankly in his surprise. "An Animagus. Impressive."

In three words, she felt more rewarded than receiving all the thunderous ovations from her Third Years combined whenever she demonstrated her transformation.

She shrugged, feeling slightly embarrassed. "If the tables were turned, would you run?"

He hesitated again, but only for a moment. "Perhaps. If it means I could save a life."

"Your own?" She prompted.

He chuckled. "Probably not that one."

"I see," she paused, shaking her head. A few dark strands fell from her bun, somewhat softening her angular appearance. "I rather hope you would."

"Are you worried for me, Professor?"

"As worried as any teacher for her students." She lied.

He beamed, that infuriating, perceptive twinkle evident in his brilliant blue eyes. She felt as though he had seen right through her. Suddenly he held her hand and rose, dragging her up.

"What-?" She uttered in confusion.

He pulled her to the center of her room, and despite herself she complied, following his confident strides with small, stumbling steps.

"I thought we were in the middle of a duel and a game," she said dryly upon regaining her composure.

"Then we might as well be in the middle of a dance, don't you agree?"

"Seeking revenge now, Mr. Dumbledore?" The corner of her lips lifted in a sly smile. He should know better than to challenge her; she was not an easy opponent.

"You did pair me up with Elphias," he reminded her.

"One of the three," she snickered. "You could have chosen Mr. Grindelwald for all I care."

"In that case, at least Elphias was willing to move." He leaned in, closer than she would have allowed him to. He could smell her faint perfume at that distance. It was lavender, light and sweet. "But you should have accepted my invitation nonetheless and spared me the embarrassment."

"Don't turn it against me, Albus," she teased.

He bowed, smiling and extending his hand, "May I have this dance, Minerva?"

"Are you serious?"

"I've never been more serious in my life." He helped place her hand on his shoulder. Then his hand curled securely around her waist. "Though perhaps some music would ease your tension," he added as an afterthought. He promptly spotted the gramophone behind her. With a tip of his wand, music started playing.

"Wait-" Minerva recognized the tune immediately, but the hand clasped firmly on her waist stopped her from scrambling to shut the gramophone off.

"Relax," he said reassuringly, pulling her closer.

She blushed furiously, but stopped struggling. The introduction of the song started to numb her senses, and despite her unease, she put her foot forward upon his prompt.

The tune was unfamiliar to Albus, but he started swaying to the music nonetheless. It was soothing, slow, and a perfect little tune for their dance. Little did he know that he had sung this song to her in his later years to win her heart. But she knew. She remembered.

The music faded slightly, and a voice familiar to both of them echoed in her chambers. Minerva shut her eyes in embarrassment as she heard a knowing chuckle escape Albus's lips.

I've a very strange feeling I've ne'er felt before,
It's a kind of a grind of depression.
My heart's acting strangely, it feels rather sore,
At least, it gives me that impression.

It was Minerva's voice - a shy, subdued recording of her usually stern, unforgiving voice.

Silently she cursed herself for her foolishness. But what could she have done? For all her years of learning and teaching, she did not know how to conjure a gramophone record out of thin air, that is, complete with a recording that had yet to exist. The songs of her time could not be found in this era. How she missed listening to them as she did every other evening in her chambers when Albus was gone.

She was secretly glad that he did not comment on her childishness or her singing. He was oddly silent as he guided her across her carpeted floor in slow, careful steps.

My pulses beat madly without any cause,
Believe me, I'm telling you truly.
I'm gay without pause, then sad without cause,
My spirits are truly unruly.

She was melting into familiar glides, as he twirled her around and she complied with ease. It was all very nostalgic - the familiar grip of his hand, the pace of his steps, and the warmth of his body.

She remembered the night they had spent at the Ministry ball, shortly after her graduation. She was attending the event as a junior Auror. Yet while everyone was enjoying themselves within the extravagant hall, she was standing alone on the balcony, far away from where the couples swayed, where boring dialogues were maintained and empty compliments were exchanged. Away from all the commotion, all the people.

She heard the fast-paced song fade and another slower, moving tune replace the ongoing racket. She turned around, and she saw her professor walking towards her, stopping short before her and extending his hand. Slowly but surely, she placed her hand onto his and they started gliding across the smooth, tiled floor, enjoying the gentle breeze of spring and privacy beyond the crowds.

For I'm falling in love with someone, some one boy.
I'm falling in love with someone head a-whirl,
Yes, I'm falling in love with someone plain to see,
I'm sure I could love someone madly, if someone would only love me.

She looked up in anticipation, but Albus's face was unreadable. Slowly the music faded away, and the characteristic, endearing smile returned to his face.

"You have a lovely voice," he complimented, after a moment's contemplation. He seemed to have other things to add, but at last he remained silent.

"Next time I'll find a proper record," she mumbled. "Your fault for doing things without warning to begin with."

"You mean-" there is a next time? He thought, getting hopeful. He swallowed his nerves and shook his head. "I'd much prefer dancing to this record."

"Flatterer," she said quietly. "Come," she pulled him back to their chairs, without bothering to sit down. "I want to finish this game."

He smiled. "You mean you want to win this game."

"That too." She smirked, overlooking the chess board. "It was cunning of you to take me away at such a crucial point of the game. Bishop to e6."

His shoulders slumped defeatedly as her White Bishop moved to face his Black King. He could still move, but his fate was as good as sealed. Her sly smile told him that she was thinking the same thing.

"Double check, Albus," she prompted at last. "It's about time you return to your dormitories."

"Have you applied for Auror training yet?" Gellert asked absently without looking up from his papers.

"Yes," Albus answered. He was rubbing his forehead wearily. "Though I thought you'd want me to postpone that course."

"No… It's a good step to take. Gathering forces takes time, and meticulous planning," Gellert answered, while highlighting positions of power as he read through a list of names. "We can walk separate paths and join hands when we ought to."

The boys were holding their discussion in an abandoned warehouse near Hogsmeade on a cold Wednesday night, one week before the Tournament began. Gellert was as insistent on staying on schedule as ever. His engrossment in timely matters was unhealthily ferocious. Contrariwise, Albus was both physically and mentally exhausted after nine hours of lessons, back to back, and supervising the weekly Quidditch practice as Captain. He thought he ought to pass captaincy on to someone less burdened if he wanted to survive his last year with some sanity left in him.

"I much prefer the legal means of doing things." Albus said sternly, in response to Gellert's suggestions.

"I know. I'm not planning against it. Besides, it's much easier to convince those beneath you to follow your objectives if you rise to power within the system." Gellert looked up, seemingly pleased that they harbored such great differences in morality. "Your nobility and trustworthiness makes you fit to guide the light forces. But it is I who encompasses the guile to maneuver the darker realms. In eventuality we shall meet."

Albus chortled disbelievingly. "I'm seventeen, Gellert. You intend for me to become a commander in the Ministry?"

"No, I want you to become the next Minister for Magic, Dumbledore," Gellert corrected. "In due course, naturally. You must rise above all others. Attain absolute power. That position is what the best of Hogwarts is trained for, is it not?"

Albus did not have a chance to answer, for suddenly red light zapped out of Gellert's wand. It hit a corner behind him, where torn curtains were draped over lopsided timber cabinets. Albus heard a strangled cry, followed by a short whimper.

Gellert walked over to the cabinets, pulling out a creature with his hands. The dim light masked his features, but Albus could identify that his expression had changed somewhat when he reemerged.

"It's a cat, Gellert." Albus recognized the furry creature and the signature swishing tail, which was still swinging weakly despite Gellert's clutch. He sighed in relief, then chuckled as he ran his hand through his auburn hair. "Merlin's beard, you're turning paranoid." The cat meowed in agreement, struggling as she tried to bite Gellert's suffocating hand around her neck.

"Some cat," Gellert sneered, studying the animal in his hand with intent. He then held it out like a specimen for inspection. The light from the broken skylight dawned on her, revealing the striped furry coat and distinctive markings around her eyes. Gellert snarled, "It's her, don't tell me you don't know."

Albus stiffened. The grey stripes were unmistakable. Her big, round, emerald eyes stared back at him helplessly, and he felt the same helplessness rise within himself. He maintained his outward calm nonetheless. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"The one who has been sneaking around on us, stalling us from our plans for the Hallows-" Gellert circled Albus slowly, his hand still clutching the cat's neck in a deathly grip. "You know, don't you? You've suspected it. How she managed to sneak into Gregorovitch's undetected, how she's always following us when you least expect it." The cat protested in his grip, but his eyes darkened and his fingers closed tightly around her neck. She whimpered in response.

"Shall we go back to our discussion?" Albus feigned a laugh. His hand swept past his pocket, where his wand was held, but he decided to hold out for as long as he could. Gellert could not have known that she was an Animagus. If he revealed her now, Gellert would treat it as confirmation to his speculations. With his hand around her throat, Gellert still had the upper hand. Albus added unwaveringly, "This sight is too comical for me to take you seriously."

"An unregistered Animagus," Gellert announced with a malicious smirk, "How convenient."

"Come now, Gellert, this is ridiculous. You're scaring her." Albus eyed the cat fleetingly. She was unarmed… was she? She should be fully clothed in her human form. She should be armed. Unless Gellert's non-verbal spell had disarmed her.

"I intend to intimidate thousands, tens and hundreds of thousands," Gellert countered readily, "Every creature on the lands I rule, Dumbledore. How sentimental you have become to argue with me about killing a cat, when we are raising an army to conquer all."

Albus sighed. "To rule, yes, but it is not my intention to kill. I've told you too many times to count."

"People do not bow without incentive. I intend to give them reason."

"We will, but reason will come in a civilized manner. They will see reason because we guide them to it." Albus added stiffly, "We are not tyrants, Gellert. Our objective is to enlighten, not to oppress."

"I beg to differ." Gellert began, but he decided that their precious time was better used discussing another issue. His attention returned to the creature in his clutch.

"Did you know when I first laid my eyes on this woman?" Gellert asked conversationally without breaking eye contact with Albus, as if his hand was not closing around her throat and her breathing was not getting shallower by the second. "I came by earlier than Ridgebit on August thirtieth. I've wanted to have a look at what resources Hogwarts had that I could not access at Durmstrang."

At Albus's questioning look, Gellert sneered. "As you know, Dumbledore, I have been studying the dark arts long before I met you. With that there comes times when I have to practice. I do, but on animals, not humans. I am not unfeeling, but I am not daft, either. I recognize that fear is the fastest - not the most effective - but the fastest way to oppress. It takes a fair bit of practice, eliciting fear; but like everything else, it is a skill that can be perfected - physically, socially, psychologically, and magically."

"I admit to you now that I was less thorough at that time, less experienced and more… emotional." He wrinkled his nose his disgust, letting Albus know that emotion to him was a despicable weakness. "I wanted an audience… Someone to share my beliefs, someone's acknowledgement, someone's cooperation." His voice softened, for only a moment, "Someone like you."

Albus opened his mouth to interrupt, but Gellert shushed him with a cold glare.

"Karkaroff came around. He was fascinated by my indulgence in the dark arts, but he was equally ridden by jealousy. In December, I was reported to the Headmaster. All my research was confiscated. I was only kept from expulsion on condition that I distanced myself completely from the realm. No more of the subject, the books, or practice. I was under surveillance."

Realization dawned on Albus's face. "Ridgebit was here to watch you?"

"Under the Headmaster's orders, yes," Gellert sneered. "But I dare say Ridgebit himself didn't know what to look for or what was out of the ordinary. He is, curiously, a boy of above average intelligence, but his attention is grossly devoted to his study of dragons."

"I have a friend like that," Albus said in a small voice, the twinkling spark in his eyes getting dimmer as the conversation wore on. "Truth be told, I envy him."

"We are special, you and I. Together we shall hold the world in our hands. We shall be invincible! What is enviable about your friend that we do not yet have?"

"Content," Albus said simply.

Gellert huffed, disgusted. "You do not learn, do you? Content is for the masses. One must yearn to strive, to succeed." He continued his story, "That night, before Ridgebit's arrival, I sneaked into the Hogwarts library. It was ridiculous - one book was all I found, one book that I had not read before, one! But I was content, Dumbledore," he pronounced the word as if it pained him. "I was so desperate, you see, after a year of deprivation, to see anything at all that reminded me of my trampled endeavors."

"I spent my time reading, and I admit now that it was truly a fascinating collection of research, much like my own. I was reciting spells so I could practise in my own time. Then there came a pleasant surprise. I heard noises. I was trailed by someone, so I retreated. Then she transformed right in front of my very eyes." Gellert clutched the cat's neck with so much force that despite her state of unwake, her eyes bulged and she raised her chin involuntarily. "This cat is none other than Minette Marie."

For a moment, no one breathed in the room. Albus was deathly silent. Then Gellert sneered, and Albus recovered, knowing that any amount of denying would help no more.

"If you already know who she is, then let her go." Albus warned, pulling out his wand. "I don't care what form she takes. If she is a witch and you dare perform the killing curse on her, it is a felony grave enough to land you in Azkaban for a lifetime."

"But that is the downfall of being an unregistered Animagus, is it not?" Gellert taunted. "No one can prove that this cat is, in fact, a woman. No member of the Wizengamot will care enough to fight for the rights of this poor creature."

"What do you want?" Albus felt cold sweat form on his forehead. He did not want to harm either of them, but if Gellert forced his hand-

"You know, Dumbledore, I've always thought that you are my perfect partner in crime. Your competence and intellect are incomparable. But I have noticed one thing lately, and correct me if I'm wrong. I'm starting to think that you are less enthusiastic than you ought to be. One fundamental element is missing for you in this search…" Gellert finished meaningfully, "Motivation."

Albus countered hurriedly, "You know I've searched for one thing specifically-"

"Yes, the Resurrection Stone. And I the Elder Wand. Our interests bear no conflict, and we complement each other well." Gellert almost laughed. "But that is exactly the issue. For, from my rather keen observation, the person you are most attached to is, as of this moment, very much alive. A man who holds a living person dear does not yearn for the Resurrection Stone."

Albus fell into peculiar silence. Gellert started pacing around him.

"There is but one simple solution," Gellert gibed. "One spell can fix all."

"Do not provoke me, Gellert." Albus's wand followed his partner's every movement. "You may have learned the dark arts for far longer, but I am still a shade more skillful. You cannot win."

"You do not know that, do you? Not until we play against each other, and I say we should."

Albus faltered slightly. "I don't want to duel you."

"Oh, some things are better determined by other means. Fairer means." Gellert said nonchalantly. "The Tournament will prove who is fitter to sit on the throne when our schemes rise to fruition."

Albus lowered his wand by a fraction. "I have never wanted that."

"Power?" Gellert snickered again, obviously unconvinced. "No, Dumbledore, you yearn for power, that much I can see. You refrain from showing it, but you do. I understand, because I do, more so than you. The temptation is too great."

"I thought we intended to rule the Muggles together."

"Together? How childish." Gellert sneered. "To gather forces, to fight, to revolutionize our world as it is - that is what we do together. But there is only one king for every kingdom."

"You've put my name in the Goblet." Albus stated in realization. When Gellert did not answer, he pushed, "To determine who is better? Is that necessary, Gellert? Between us?"

"I believe so," came the cold answer.

Albus shook his head. "You still do not trust me. You do not trust my devotion to this scheme, nor do you trust my willingness to participate should you want absolute power for yourself."

"No, but that is human nature, Dumbledore."

"I am not like Karkaroff. I won't betray you…" Albus stiffened, his eyes travelling back to the cat's limp form. "Unless you give me a reason to."

"Really, Dumbledore? A threat? Coming from you?" Gellert scoffed derisively. "I do not fear betrayal, no. But I detest a lack of progress. No matter. A game of equal play settles our disputes."

"What is it that you want?" Albus persisted, losing his calm. "Evidently you want something, if you're going out of your way-"

"To rid ourselves of obstacles." Gellert's wand returned to the cat's neck. He watched Albus fall back into silent apprehension.

"I am still after the Resurrection Stone." Albus said in finality. "My… feelings for her will not change that."

"But I am inclined to give you… ah, what's that phrase again? A rightful kick in the arse."

Albus flashed him a dangerous glare. "You do not dare."

"Try me." Gellert waved his wand at the cat. "Petrificus-"

Albus had no time to ponder why Gellert used a full body-binding curse. He aimed a Stunner at his partner, but he was a moment too late, for Gellert's wand changed course before he could complete his incantation.

"-Totalus," Gellert finished, his wand aimed at Albus's chest. The spell hit him squarely and Albus bounced off to the other side of the room.

"You know your spells, Dumbledore, I give you that. But you lack artifice." Gellert's wand changed course again, its end pointed at his hostage. "Avada Kedavra!"

Albus did not know how many hours he had been sitting there. Perhaps it had been minutes, but time was frozen for him. He did not even know whether he was breathing. His throat was dry, his tongue with the texture of sandpaper, and he had an overwhelming urge to retch on the spot. Gellert had lifted the curse on his body, but he had no reason to move. All that remained was the cat's body, laying limp and lifeless across the table, as though she was in a deep, peaceful slumber.

At last, he climbed up to the table. He knew it was her the moment she was captured. The markings around her eyes were codes for identification that were unique to Animagi. Moments ago, he could still sense her magic nearby. Now all his senses were drowned by his distress. He could hardly hear a thing.

"I'm sorry."

Albus jumped with a start. He dropped his wand with a clatter. It bounced off the edge of the table and rolled into a narrow gap between the flooring strips. The familiarity of the voice, no more than a whisper, drained the color off his face.

Minerva unveiled herself from the dark corner, exactly where he thought she was captured by Gellert. Her disillusionment charm melted away as she approached him. Albus then realized that her eyes were trained on the cat, and she was talking to her dead body.

She took out her wand and pointed it at the cat. There was a soft, white glow, then the color of her fur changed from grey to brown, and her markings started disappearing. Minerva was untransfiguring the cat. When she was done, there laid a brown tabby with a bulge around the stomach and no markings anywhere, but a wounded leg.

"She was following me around, while I was in my Animagus form. I could communicate with her to a degree, so when Grindelwald sensed my presence, I transfigured her and let her be hit by his spell."

"But… why were you here in the first place?" Albus asked disbelievingly.

Minerva flashed him a note. It was in purple ink, and charmed in Albus's handwriting. On it was a time, a venue, and a message worded in his usual witty but gentlemanly manner. He flinched at the suggestive undertone, as though Gellert was certain that he and Minerva were romantically involved.

"But of course, he was testing my loyalty." He concluded, watching her put the note away.

"Yes, and you've just proved to him that you would turn against him for me. Not very wise, is it?"

"No, not at all. I was slightly overwhelmed." He admitted, though 'slightly overwhelmed' was the biggest understatement he could phrase. "Did you know that I did not compose that note?"

"Yes. I teach Transfiguration, after all. Magic leaves traces."

"So why did you come?" He sounded slightly agitated at that point.

"I was uncertain, still. I wanted to check." She lied.

She did not come to check. She could recognize Albus's handwriting any day, no matter how well the charm placed onto the parchment was. Besides, Gellert Grindelwald was not exceptionally gifted at Transfiguration. She only came to ensure that Gellert's wrath was not redirected at Albus's person. With the Triwizard Tournament in view and the future uncertain, she hoped to become Gellert's sole target. The last thing she wanted was for her unexpected appearance in this era to turn Albus into a target long before he needed such enemies lurking around him.

He nodded, his expression grim. For a second she thought he was going to reprimand her for her recklessness, for making him worry. It was something that her Professor Dumbledore liked to do.

Then suddenly he wrapped his arms around her and held her tight. Without warning, he pressed his lips to hers urgently, almost hungrily, savoring her sweetness as though this was his last chance. His lips were dry but soft, his grip firm but gentle. He still tasted of lemon and chocolate regardless.

Stunned, she was completely at a loss of how to react, until his arms pressed her closer to his body, and his hands wrapped gently around her jaw. Her lips parted, granting him access. He pulled her close, exploring her mouth with his tongue, his eyes shut tight as he angled his head slightly to the side to reach deeper.

Between their intermingled breaths, she moaned, and she felt him pushing her against the table, crushing her with his warmth. It was not a kiss of silent promises or whispered vows. He was as hungry as a starving lion as he claimed her lips, in an act that spoke of repressed lust and desire. It was unvented frustration, mingled with anxiety, with madness.

Then as sudden as it had happened, the forcefulness of his kiss melted away, and he was kissing her softly. He shifted his weight and she straightened her arched back to return his kiss. She allowed the familiarity to engulf her, to trick her into thinking everything was a dream. She was kissing her Albus right then, right there. Holding him, feeling him, knowing he had kept his promise. He was there beside her, and nothing could harm her. There was no Grindelwald, no Voldemort, no war, and no casualties. He did not fall from the tower like an angel with broken wings. He did not crash down onto the ground like a stone statue toppled and shattered.

After what felt like an eternity, they parted reluctantly. Halfheartedly she expected a feeble apology as her Professor Dumbledore would offer, and she even expected herself to reprimand him as she should, but all was forgotten when she heard him speak.

"You scared me. I thought I had lost you." He whispered, his voice soft and small.

Nothing in his voice reminded her of her mighty professor. He sounded fragile, timid, like a child who feared that he had been abandoned by his parents. His hands were resting on her shoulders, and she could feel them trembling ever so slightly.

"I'm not that gullible, Albus," she said, pulling away gently. "And I'm rather good at magic."

He shook his head, seemingly clearing his mind. "Thank Merlin, Minerva. Don't ever do that again."

She gave him a half-hearted nod as he pulled her into an embrace again, this time tenderer and silent. She shut her eyes, inhaling his familiar scent, feeling his heart thumping fast against his chiselled chest.

For all her life, it had been he who was protecting her. Her Professor Dumbledore, who was wiser, stronger, more knowledgeable, and more experienced. To him, she would always be that young, headstrong eighteen year old, always in need of a giant protective shield around her. But now the situation was reversed. Now she was wiser, she had knowledge of the future, and she had decades worth of experience. She had survived two wars, the death of her family and the death of her beloved. She was rendered weak in her time and thus she had grown to be stronger.

This time, she could protect him. She would.

Minerva was not surprised to see the blond-haired man leaning against the balustrade when she climbed the stairs to her chambers. Evidently he was expecting her, for he turned and approached her when she came to a stop before the portrait. Minerva's portrait was about to ask for her password when the witch raised her hand to silence the painting.

"Good evening, Mr. Grindelwald." She turned to her student, her eyes narrowing cautiously.

"Hello, Professor," he sneered, droning on each syllable in an unpleasant manner.

Minerva flinched slightly, for she realized that he sounded more respectful when he called her by her last name than when he used her proper title. Whereas Albus's use of her title was usually teasing by effect, Gellert's was taunting. She much preferred him calling her 'Marie' at that moment.

He came closer, scrutinizing her from head to toe in interest. "How very alive you are."

"Remarkable, isn't it?" She said dryly. "From your presence here I assume you are not surprised."

"No, I thought rather highly of you, since you've caught us at Gregorovitch's. I didn't think you would readily jump out without a wand." He sounded amused. "Dumbledore obviously thought less of you, poor lad. Did you see the shell shocked expression he wore when I cursed the cat? Tell me, how long did you wait before alerting the man that your death was faked?"

"Long enough for him to learn a lesson. Why have you come?"

"Why, to make a deal with you, of course." He was next to her in two steps, and suddenly too close for comfort.

She shifted away, but he followed. "The deal being?" She asked in an annoyed tone.

"We can settle our dispute, that is, between you and me, if you can convince Dumbledore to find me the Elder Wand before the third task of the Tournament." Gellert had curled his arm around her shoulder, and he was twirling one long, raven strand with his finger.

"Why the big rush? Surely you can afford to sit down and have a cup of tea while you're at it." She said casually despite her obvious discomfort.

"Because I have grander schemes, and I assume you know. I'm gathering some followers here and there, and making contracts as I go. Meanwhile world leaders are stirring up commotion in the Muggle world. I'd like to keep on schedule. I would have already, had Dumbledore not been… distracted."

"Either way you want me dead," Minerva stated sharply.

"I am not a murderer," Gellert snapped. Then in a calmer voice, he added, "I prefer not to kill, but I clear my obstacles. Anyone who has an ounce of common sense would know better than to stand in my way."

"You know he cannot find the wand on time." Minerva reasoned angrily. "He has not the slightest clue..."

"But you might," his eyes seemed to say, but that remained unspoken.

"... I would not even bother telling him about this ridiculous deal of yours," she finished unyieldingly.

"I will be keeping time," he reminded her.

"Yes, make a tally, keep your notes close, and do snap some photographs." She retorted sarcastically.

His hand was on the wall behind her in a second, as he forcefully backed her against the rough stone surface. Minerva heard her portrait gasp. Gellert saw a flash of his professor's fear when she almost tripped as she stumbled back. Her reaction stemmed from surprise at his assault rather than actual timidity of his person, but reading that moment of unease gave him satisfaction nonetheless.

"You underestimate me, Professor." He snarled, his face just an inch away from hers.

Minerva could feel his eyes bore into hers - cold, unfeeling blue eyes. Those bottomless wells of the same color were so unlike Albus's, which always glinted of lighthearted mischief. For a moment, she recoiled, thinking he was suspicious, or that he knew.

He knew that she knew the location of the Elder Wand.

But of course, she gave him reasons to be suspicious. She followed him into the library. She trailed after them into Gregorovitch's. Then later, in her foolishness, she confiscated their books from the library, including - her biggest mistake - Hogwart's sole copy of The Tales of Beedle the Bard. It was a children's book, a book they could access anywhere, but the fact that she felt the need to confiscate it meant that she too believed that the stories were more than mere fairy tales.

Gellert Grindelwald was a man so eager to win that his jealousy could easily be doused with the slightest hint of a threat. His drive to remove her was based on something more fundamental and more threatening than Albus's obsession with her of late - though his partner's wavering motivation was an added catalyst. Gellert wanted to eliminate his competition because he wrongly believed that Minerva was onto the Deathly Hallows.

But there was nothing Minerva could reveal. Nothing she could say that he would believe either. So she did what was only natural. She feigned ignorance.

"You may be well versed in the dark arts, Grindelwald," she spat disdainfully. "But I have seen far too much and fought far too long to lose to the likes of you."

"Curiously, that is the second time someone has said that to me today. I am beginning to feel defeated." He backed away, and she felt him pluck a strand from her scalp. He inspected it for a second, as if he was studying a trophy he earned. "We'll see who comes out on top at the end of the day. Have a good night, Professor."

Author's Note: Chapters keep getting longer. I hope it's not too boring.

Thanks uma ramrup for your continued support! I'm glad I've achieved that effect ;) Otherwise Minerva would just be majorly annoyed by Albus all the time.

Mascaret-senpai! I'm very flattered *blush* I hope this chapter didn't disappoint!