A Wish for Peace

That someone was seated in her favorite chair in front of the fire, unwrapping a sherbet lemon and looking happy as you please. Before the man had a chance to open his mouth, Minerva had flung herself across the room and into his arms. She hugged him forcibly.

“Albus!” she cried, throwing her arms around his neck and giving him a firm but passionate kiss on the lips. Albus looked surprised, but not displeased as Minerva pulled back and sighed in relief.

“Oh I’m so glad you’re home,” she said, releasing her husband and looking about distractedly for a carpetbag that she was sure she’d left somewhere in this general vicinity.

“Well Minerva, my dear,” Albus laughed, watching his wife buzz around the room. “Not that I am unhappy at your unusually enthusiastic display of affection, but I have been away from you before, and I am just wondering what happened during my absence to make you so glad of my return? Oh, and please sit down with me- I’m afraid you’re making me a tad nervous.” Minerva laughed and obliged, taking a seat on her husband’s lap. She promptly whacked him on the arm.

“Ow, what was that for, Minerva?”

“For leaving me here to deal with this… this… nut house! Honestly, I had no idea that being the Headmaster was such work!” Albus looked at Minerva seriously, but his eyes held the twinkle of humor that they so often did.

“Now Minerva,” he mock scolded, wagging a finger in her direction. “You were well aware that my job is not a cake-walk before you took it on. I’ve been telling you that there is more to being the Headmaster than sitting a high-backed chair and making up school songs. No, no, it’s hard work, although the high-backed chair is rather nice, don’t you think?” Minerva laughed lightly and leaned forward, placing a kiss upon his long yet rather crooked nose.

“Well then I’m afraid that you make it look far too easy.” She snuggled up against him and for a moment they stared into the fire, until Minerva leaned back a little ways and whapped him on the arm again.

“What, pray tell, was that for this time?” Albus asked, rubbing the sore spot gingerly. Minerva smiled innocently.

“For leaving me in the first place.” Albus laughed and placed a light kiss on the top on her head.

“Well, I’m very glad that you are back, at any rate. At least now, I won’t feel so bad leaving. I mean, I know that you trust Severus, but it seems that the students wouldn’t be quite happy with that arrangement, don’t you agree?” Minerva asked absently, staring into the fire thoughtfully. It was Albus’ turn to lean back in surprise.

“Wait a moment, Minerva. Where exactly are you going?” Minerva looked slightly guilty at not having revealed her plan in the first place, but got off his lap and stood up again to try and find her misplaced carpetbag.

“Oh, well,” she said distractedly, sticking her head in a cupboard in hopes of finding the lost luggage. “You know, it’s been a particularly difficult day for me, so I was just going to go into Hogsmeade for a day or so for some rest and relaxation. Is there a problem?” She turned back around and looked Albus in the eye, giving him a rather piercing stare. Albus stood up and walked to his wife, placing his hands on her shoulders and coming face to face with her. Close up, he realized that Minerva looked extremely worn and very tired indeed. He sighed heavily.

“Minerva dearest, if I were to run away every time there was a problem at the school, or every time I had a rough day, nothing would ever get done here.”

“I know Albus, I know, and I admire you for it, but I… I have none of your patience,” she finished lamely. “I fear that if I stay here a moment longer, I may do something drastic. Let’s just say that I won’t be taking up the Headmistress position any time soon.” She shrugged off his hands and reached under the couch, triumphantly pulling out a fairly dusty carpetbag.

“Well I admire you for your admiration, but I’m afraid that you can’t leave.”

“Oh, and why not?” Minerva straightened up and narrowed her eyes at her husband, her hands on her hips. “You cannot control my every move, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore. Now tell me why you think that I cannot leave if I so choose?”

“Because I would be far too lonely,” said Albus simply. “I can’t allow you to leave, but there is a fantastic place for you to relax right here in the castle.”

“Oh really?” Minerva asked, raising an eyebrow skeptically. “And where would that be? I’ve tried the bath –Mr. Potter threw a wrench into that plan- and I have tried sitting in front of the fire with a book- don’t even ask what happened to the book- so I don’t know where I could possibly go where I could get a moment’s peace!” There was a hysterical edge to her voice now, and Albus was becoming slightly alarmed.

Her hair was coming out of its hasty bun and falling around her face. Her eyes were bulging slightly. Minerva whipped around and threw open the door on the right, revealing a large, elaborate bedroom. She stomped across the room and yanked the topmost drawer of her dresser open. She dropped the carpetbag on the floor and pulled it open, stuffing in clothes and a few of her belongings in an unorganized fashion that was very unlike her. Deciding to stop this little problem before it began, Albus gathered up all his Gryffindor courage –which seemed to be in short supply at that particular moment- and marched into the room. His wife was looking very frazzled, trying to decide which pair of shoes to bring: the boots or the heels. He stepped forward nervously.

“Er, Minerva dear?” he asked cautiously. “Are you absolutely sure that you wouldn’t like to see the place where you can relax, that happens to be right here in this very castle?”

“Oh yes,” Minerva said absently. “Quite sure.” She had decided on the boots and was trying to find a way to squish them into the bag. Albus sighed in a resigned way.

“I will make a bargain with you, Minerva, but you have to hold to it. I will let you leave when, and only when you have seen the place that I wish to show you.” Minerva straightened up and narrowed her eyes suspiciously.

“Do you promise that you will let me leave for as long as I like?”

“Provided you dislike the area that I have shown you, then yes,” Albus said, carefully hiding his crossed fingers behind his back.

“Fine,” she said, snapping her bulging bag shut with difficulty. “Show me whatever it is that you wish to show me, and make it quick,” she added irritably. Albus smiled serenely and took her by her free hand.

“I will lead the way, my dear.” They walked down the corridors and up flights of stairs in silence. Albus of course had no intention of letting her leave at all. He had been forced to say that for the simple reason that she wouldn’t have budged if he had simply said, ‘I’m going to lock you in a room, my darling, so just come along quietly.’ They walked up two staircases and down one more, behind tapestries and hidden passages. The route to Albus’ destination was quite simple, of course, but he feared that Minerva would deduce where he was taking her and put a stop to it immediately, so he had to take the long way; the very long way.

“Albus, really! Where on earth are you taking me? My feet are beginning to hurt something terrible, and I’m getting quite impatient.” Albus had to suppress a smirk of triumph. He had succeeded in stumping the infamous Minerva McGonagall.

“Ah, you’ll see soon enough, my dear,” Albus said in an infuriatingly patient tone. Deciding not to provoke her further, Albus quickly put an end to his winding and unnecessarily long path. He cut through an unknown passage behind a mirror that lead right to a corridor where on the wall there was a painting of a wizard attempting to teach a troll ballet.

Albus feigned a look of concentration and pretended to be thinking hard while pacing slowly in front of a blank stretch of wall. Suddenly a door appeared, innocently filling the space between the painting and a suit of armor as if it had been there all along. Minerva stared dumbly at the door that had now appeared. Albus looked relieved and stood to the side allowing her access to the shiny brass knob.

“In you go, Minerva.” Minerva shot him a very suspicious look and opened the door. She flung it open and had to stop; she gasped.

“Oh it’s beautiful! How have I never seen this room before?” Behind the door was the most beautiful room Minerva had ever seen. It had one large window with deep velvety curtains that were pulled open to reveal the setting sun. There was a large, very comfortable looking bed in front of it, with the comforter pulled back in a welcoming sort of way. One door was on the other side of the room, with a neatly crocheted sign on the door that gave the room a homey-touch.

“Well my dear, I suppose one has to be looking for it in order to find it,” Albus said thoughtfully. He gave her a gentle push. “Go on in,” he said. Minerva obliged without complaint, beginning to think quite happily of all the quiet in this room. It didn’t unnerve her, as it normally would, but placated her; it was like stepping into a hot bath.

There was a sudden click and the door behind her slammed shut and locked. Panicked, Minerva dropped her bulging bag and ran at the door and tried to pull it open- or rather, she ran at the blank stretch of wall where the door would have been, if it had not just disappeared into thin air, as things sometimes did at Hogwarts. After several minutes of yelling for Albus Dumbledore to put that door back right then or suffer the consequences, she gave up and slumped to the floor. She sat and sulked for a moment there, brow furrowed, her mind far away in thought, before she realized that she was in a large quiet room with several comfortable-looking chairs, and why was she sitting on the floor? She stood up and pulled her hair down from its bun and ran her fingers through it, relishing the feel of her fingers on her scalp, before kicking off her shoes post-haste. Finally, as if she had been waiting for it all her life, Minerva sank into the largest squashiest armchair right in front of the roaring fire. She sighed contentedly and burrowed further into the chair –which was, in fact, extremely soft- and closed her eyes. She found, however, that a part of her mind couldn’t quite relax. That part of her mind was still on edge –waiting, perhaps, for the first knock or scream to break her out of her reverie.

When after five minutes no noise came, that part of her mind retired its suspicions and relaxed with the rest of her. After lying in the chair for quite some time, Minerva opened her eyes and decided –for curiosity’s sake- to further explore her secret haven. She started with the end table to her right, where, sitting on the glossy mahogany tabletop was a copy of the exact book that she had thrown out in a frenzy earlier that day. Quite surprised, she reached over and pulled the book into her lap, running a hand along its blue, leather-bound cover. Emblazoned on it in gold lettering was the title, A Professor’s Guide to Adolescent Learning, Second Edition.

‘So that’s what I had been reading,’ Minerva thought amusedly, opening the book and flipping through the pages a little. ‘I can’t see why I was so eager to read it,’ she mused. ‘It seems terribly dull.’ As she flipped through the pages, she came upon a section that was marked with a bookmark that had a tassel on the end. Intrigued, Minerva read a little of the page and realized with a start that this had been the section she herself had been reading from. Minerva chuckled and set the book back down on the table.

“Well Albus," she said out loud, a hint of amusement in her voice, “you’ve quite outdone yourself. I must say that this is a very nice place you have set aside.” While it may seem to someone who may have been listening that she was talking to herself and a little bit off her rocker, she was sure that Albus was listening from somewhere. She paused expectantly, waiting for a response.

Sure enough, with a faint foomp a piece of parchment fell from the roof and landed in her lap. On the parchment, written in green ink, in tall, loopy script that Minerva in fact recognized, were the words, “Thank you, my dear.” Minerva chuckled a little and was startled that she was still capable of laughter after a day like today. Surprisingly, with another sound like a pillow hitting a mattress, a stack of papers about a half foot thick and tied in the middle fell from above. Bewildered, Minerva caught it as it floated gently down and placed it on the arm of the chair she was still sitting in. She carefully untied the string binding the papers and picked up the topmost one, looking at with puzzlement. It appeared to be a stack of essays and homework that she had yet to mark, but why they had just fallen from the roof was beyond her.

“What is this, Albus?” Yet again, a piece of worn-looking parchment fell from the roof and landed in her lap. Instead of an explanation, however, there were only four short words.

‘In case you get bored.’

Minerva allowed herself another laugh –a sound that still seemed rather alien to her- and shook her head, placing both pieces of parchment and the stack of marking on the floor. Then, with a careless flick of her wrist, tossed the pile of papers into the fire. With another sigh and a good-natured smile on her face Minerva leaned back again and shut her eyes, listening to the sound of the crackling flames devouring the last reminder of work that she currently possessed. She opened one eye and noted with satisfaction that the papers were now no more that chard, black ash. But yet again, another note floated down into her lap. Unable to stifle her curiosity, Minerva picked up the note and read it. This time, the note said,

‘That wasn’t very professional, Minerva. What about responsibility?’

If a piece of paper could mock, that’s what this particular piece seemed to be doing. It was taunting her, and Minerva could tell that the ‘mysterious’ note writer was having a grand time with it.

“Oh, hang professionalism and hang responsibility,” Minerva said carelessly. Immediately, another note fell into her lap, and the writing was getting sloppier, more hurried, as if the writer was quite anxious to tell her something. Minerva opened it impatiently. She had come to this room to find piece, and now a piece of paper was interrupting her peace.

‘Nevertheless, Minerva, I still have another gift for you. It’s on the bed.’

With another careless toss, Minerva threw the paper into the fire, and walked over to the bed, where, sitting on top of the cover, was what appeared to be Albus himself. But of course, it was not. Upon closer inspection, Minerva deduced that it was in fact Albus, but just a very large cut out of him, made out of what appeared to be cardboard.

“Oh, Albus you’re too much.” She sat down on the bed and amusedly flipped the cut out over. The makers of the cardboard cutout had replicated her husband exactly, right down to his pleasantly amused countenance. On the back was another piece of parchment however. Genuinely curious, Minerva pulled the note off and read it, immediately beginning to laugh like she had never laughed before, tears rolling down her cheeks. The note had read,

‘In case you get lonely.’