When No One Is Around

In a castle somewhere there was a tower. In the tower there was a room, with a window overlooking a lake, and the rising purple mountains beyond it. In the room, there was a desk, piled neatly with papers and quills of every kind, and sitting at the desk, working tirelessly, was a woman. Her face was creased with concentration, and after hours of work, the tight, sleek bun at the back of her head was beginning to come loose, allowing strands of her lustrous, ebony hair to fall about her face. There was only the sound of her quill scratching on parchment and the occasional call of a bird to break the silence. She heaved a sigh and dropped her quill abruptly. The luscious orange hues of the evening sun were spilling through the window on the opposite wall and flooding the drab and slightly stuffy room with a warm light.

She stood up slowly and walked to the window, allowing her skin to bask in the warmth of the setting sun. The light it was spreading across the vast landscape below gave the grounds a friendly, welcoming look; the look of a field of lush, green grass, warmed by the summer sun and ready to cushion bare feet as you danced across it. The woman reached out and with some difficulty fully opened the window, its glass was still heated from the intense, afternoon sun, allowing a tantalizing breeze to come through and dance around her. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, inhaling the sweet scent of summer. It smelt of flowers in bloom and the crisp, refreshing scent of the lake. She could hear the breeze rustling the leaves of the Poplar trees, and the slow, soothing sound of languid waves lapping on the shore. She opened her eyes again and leaned her weight on the windowsill, taking in the breathtaking beauty of the land.

She shaded her eyes with one hand and looked out at the scaling mountains, massive silhouettes outlined against the light horizon. Looking at the grounds was a soothing activity, and always calmed her nerves. On this very night, breathing in the scent of a summer's evening, admiring the boundless terrain, she was taken back many years to her childhood, when she would dance across the lawn on a summer's night like this. There would be beautiful music and everything she knew would vanish, only to be replaced by a lilting, rhythmic tune that would take over her body and move her in artful and graceful ways. And now the positions and painstaking moves were flooding back to her and everything of her being just wanted to dance; and so she did.

Kicking off her rather tight shoes that now seemed far too hot, she leapt across the small space to the sound of the waves and the wind in the trees. She moved through the room with grace and precision, her body moving with a passion that she never knew she had. As she leaped and twirled about the room, her heart began to beat faster; her hair unwound from it's confining pins and danced around her head. There was music in her mind, a euphonious, melodious tune that she knew but couldn't place, and there was a rhythm that her heart was beating in the confines of her soul. And as the beat grew faster, her fluid movements became swifter. She swept across the dull room, and forgot where she was. She forgot everything except the sweet, summer breeze that blew in and gently ruffled her hair, and the methodical beating of the waves upon the rocks and her bare feet on the floor.

The click of a door opening and shutting couldn't break her from her own private realm. It seemed that she was not dancing anymore, but the music was pounding in her very veins and flooding throughout her, bending and twirling and twisting her body into positions that she never knew she could do. She reached a climax; she moved so swiftly, leaping deftly about, that the only thing she could hear now was that strange music and all she could see was her hair about her face. The wind blew harder through the window, the beat sped up and her pulse quickened. Her feet moved faster than ever before, she twirled twice in a row and leapt for a final time, landing on her knees on the coarse rug.

She leaned forward to catch her breath, her hair hanging in her face. The music had gone as abruptly as it had came and now there was only the sound of the wind, the waves, and her heavy breathing. She was once again back in the dull, quiet room at the top of a tower, and crouching on the floor amidst papers and quills. She lifted her head slowly and turned to the window, allowing the cool breeze to kiss her face. It had been a long time, -so long in fact that she couldn't even remember- since she'd danced like that. The quiet in the room now seemed peaceful, rather than unsettling, and she found the will to continue working, because that's what she did.

As she stood up slowly, stretching in a manner that can only be called feline, she spotted something -or rather someone- on the opposite side of the room. It was a tall, familiar man, who walked towards her with an outstretched hand and amused smile playing around the corners of his mouth.

"Minerva my dear. I was unaware that you could dance so very well," he said, taking her hand in his and kissing it lightly.

Minerva's other hand was on her chest, attempting to slow her rapidly beating heart. This time, however, it had nothing to do with dancing. She looked into his crystal blue eyes and stammered his name with as much voice as she could muster.

"Professor Dumbledore! Thank you, but what brings you up here on such a fine evening?" she asked, hastily trying to straighten her robes and smooth her hair; she wasn't appropriately attired for meeting with her employer. Not that their relationship was strictly professional, however. They happened to be good friends as well as colleagues, and maybe, Minerva hoped, a little bit more. She realized that Albus hadn't yet let go of her hand.

"Ah, what else, Minerva, but you? I happened to be passing by and hear quite a bit of commotion in here, so I decided to -ah- investigate. Not a problem, I hope, is it my dear?" Albus finally dropped her hand and looked at her with twinkling eyes that held a hint of humor, as always. Minerva discreetly hid her bare beet under her long, green summer robe and laughed a little, relieved that he no longer held her hand in his; the tingling sensation she felt there made chills run down her spine.

"Of course not, Professor Dumbledore, I was merely writing out the Hogwarts Letters. But might I inquire as to how you were 'passing by' when my room is the highest in the tower, and therefore is not on any corridor?" She quirked an eyebrow amusedly. Albus smiled and shook his head, giving her the grin that he reserved only for her. It could warm her from head to toe better than any sunset ever could.

"Leave it to you to come up with something such as that, Professor McGonagall," he laughed placing a hand on her shoulder. "I never knew that writing out letters could require so much physical activity. Perhaps I shall join you next year. And please, call me Albus."

Minerva relished the warm, comforting weight of his hand on her shoulder and took a step closer. There was nought but silence between them, and Albus' eye took on a different look altogether. A look of yearning; of a desire so deep it was inexpressible through words. He leaned in a little closer, and Minerva felt her breath catch in her throat. He smelt so good- like cinnamon and... Sherbet Lemons. She allowed herself a small smile. Without a second thought they leaned in and closed the distance between them, their lips locking and fitting together like missing pieces of a puzzle.

The kiss was long and lingering, leaving one's taste on the others lips. The sun was nearly set, a blinding sliver of light on the horizon, but it still filled the room and cast a warming glow over the two people in it, standing wrapped in each other's embrace. They pulled back, looked into each other's eyes and held fast to each other as if they'd never let go.

"I never knew you felt this way," Albus murmured, planting a gentle kiss on her nose, "but I can't say that I am displeased." Minerva smiled leaned into his embrace.

"Nor can I, Albus." She let out a contented sigh as he wrapped his arms around her.

"But finally I have the answer to a question I've been asking myself for quite some time." Minerva grinned slyly.

"Was it whether or not I loved you back? Because the answer is yes." Albus closed his eyes and let out a laugh.

"No, my dear, but I can tell you that I am glad to hear that. You see, while I know little of your life outside Hogwarts, and much of your life right now, I have always had one question and tonight you answered it." Minerva lay her head on his shoulder and looked out at the almost darkened sky, and the almost black waves that were splashing on the rocks and reflecting almost perfectly the brightly shining stars.

"Mmm, what question would that be then?" she murmured.

"What you do when no one is around."