After being assured that I'm not completely insane, I present... the secret santa gift for mmadlyinlove!
Faith and Promises
A/N: Yeah, this really ran away on me. I’m not sure where it came from in the first place, but I’m going to blame the quote about madness. Anyway, nothing belongs to me, characters are J. K. Rowlings and all that nonsense, and I hope that this actually makes sense, and brings a little holiday cheer. It was just another morning in the Great Hall, two weeks before Christmas. The children were chattering excitedly, they would be going into Hogsmeade today, and they would have the chance to do some shopping. The staff was relatively silent at the Head Table due to the presence of the overly pink and exceptionally annoying Dolores Umbridge. Albus smiled gratefully at his deputy as she poured more tea into his cup for him. She returned his smile slightly, but her attention was drawn away by the arrival of the mail.
The owls descended, dropping mail on almost everyone, and newspapers on the rest. Albus reached out a hand and caught the daily prophet just before it landed in Minerva’s breakfast as he did every morning. Minerva leaned closer as he unrolled it, then recoiled in horror at the headline.
DUMBLEDORE GONE MAD? TRIAL WILL TELL.
“What?” the shriek came from around the hall, but Minerva was heard above the rest. Dolores snorted into her tea.
“Albus is this true?” Minerva cried, turning to her friend.
“I don’t know, my dear, this is the first I’ve heard of it,” Albus replied, just as confused as she was.
“Dolores, what do you know about this?” Minerva demanded, leaning across Albus to glare at the short woman with the smug smile.
“I’m not allowed to share any information that I might have.” She replied, standing. “I expect you’ll all find out soon enough.”
“Oh, that woman is…” Minerva began, but Albus cut her off, laying a gentle hand on her arm.
“Now, Minerva. I’m sure Rita Skeeter is merely taking creative license again.” He told her calmly. “You take the children into Hogsmeade and keep and eye on Dolores for me, and I will firecall the minister and see what this is all about.”
“Albus,” she began, but he interrupted her.
“Everything will be fine, Minerva. Trust me.”
“I do.”
With that, Albus left the table and swept away towards his office to sort things out with the Ministry. Minerva gave a worried glance in his direction and then summoned her cloak and hat from her chambers while she began rounding up the children for the Hogsmeade trip.
Christmas shopping was the last thing on Minerva’s mind as they arrived in town and the children scattered. She trailed after Dolores for awhile, making sure she wasn’t doing anything suspicious. Spying stopped however, when she disappeared inside Madame Puddifoot’s. Minerva headed in the other direction to pick up some candy for Albus and some things for her friends. She had no idea what to get Albus for Christmas. She agonized every year, and every year she came back to the same things. Books and socks were bound to be getting old. She couldn’t concentrate on serious shopping when that newspaper headline flashed through her mind every few seconds. She couldn’t wait until it was time to return to the castle.
For Albus, the Hogsmeade trip was taking just as long as he paced his office, restless. He’d gone to place the call to the minister and instead, found a rather large and disagreeable owl tapping at the window. Upon reading its contents, Albus had almost gone to Hogsmeade to find Minerva; he desperately wanted to talk to her. Deciding that with Dolores there, that wouldn’t be the best option, he took to wearing a hole in his carpet. At last, he saw the group returning, Minerva walking quickly toward the doors while Umbridge tagged along behind her being, Albus gathered from Minerva’s expression, her usual obnoxious self.
He stopped pacing, knowing that any moment Minerva would arrive at his door. He wasn’t disappointed. A few minutes later, there was a loud knocking. With a wave of his hand, the door opened, and Minerva hurried inside, her cheeks pink from the cold, and her cloak over her arm, which she promptly deposited on the back of a chair.
“Albus, tell me that you worked this out, it’s all I could think about all…”
“I’ve been summoned to appear at a trial, which will, I’m told, determine my mental capacity and whether or not I am fit to run the school.” He told her. She stopped dead.
“Come again?” she said after a moment.
“I said,” he began, preparing to repeat.
“I heard what you said. I don’t believe what I’m hearing, that’s all.” She said, her voice rising slightly.
“Cornelius is still in denial about Voldemort’s return, and apparently trying to discredit my opinion.” Albus stated.
“How are you so calm about this?” she demanded, her cheeks flushing an even darker shade of red.
“I believe I’m still in shock, my dear.” He said.
Minerva dropped onto the sofa by the fire. “When is the trial?”
“The twenty third of December.” He replied, sitting beside her.
“They didn’t even give us Christmas.” She said softly. He reached over for her hand, not noticing her choice of words.
“We’ll get through this, Min. It’s just another bump in the road.”
“You have such faith.” She said, gripping his hand tightly.
“Do you doubt my sanity?” he asked, trying to lighten the mood.
“No!” she turned sharply, to face him. “Of course not. I just doubt a fair trial, that’s all.”
“We’ll think of something,” he told her, his voice barely above a whisper. She didn’t look convinced. Albus slid his arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer to him. “I promise.”
On the 22nd of December Minerva burst into Albus’ office without knocking. He looked up from his desk in surprise.
“The children that are going home are gone,” she announced, sinking down into the cushions of the sofa.
“You look tired, Min.” Albus said.
“Well it isn’t as though I can sleep at night,” she said irritably, then felt bad about her harsh words. “I’m sorry.”
“No, I’m sorry.” Albus said, rising and coming to sit beside her.
“Why?”
“I presume that this trial is the reason that you haven’t been sleeping?” he asked.
She nodded. “I can’t stop worrying about what’s going to happen. We have no evidence but your word, and Harry’s that V… Vold…You Know Who has returned, we have nothing that’s going to help you!”
“Shh, Min.” he said soothingly, putting a comforting arm around her shoulders. “Everything is going to be fine. We’ll get through this, didn’t I promise that?”
“Yes, but…”
“But?”
“It’s a pie crust promise. You don’t know for sure. I… I don’t want to lose you to some political maneuver.” She said, tears welling in her eyes much to her dismay.
“Minerva listen to me,” he said, tightening his grip on her. “You’re not going to lose me. We will celebrate this Christmas together like we have every other one for the last, oh, I don’t know, forty-odd years. Do you believe me?”
“I believe IN you, Albus.”
“Good. Now, enough worrying. We haven’t even decorated for Christmas, yet!” he said, pulling her to her feet. With a wave of his wand, Christmas carols filled the air, and they both set to work transforming his office for the holidays.
They had just finished when the first strains of Minerva’s favorite carol were heard.
“What a perfect song to end with for the evening,” Albus said crossing the room to her side. She gave him a slight smile. “Dance with me?” he asked.
Nodding, she moved into his arms, and they began twirling around his office. After running into the furniture a few times, they gave up and just swayed together, enjoying the tradition that Albus had started so many years before. He was able to surprise her though, when he began singing along.
Silent night, holy night
All is calm, all is bright
Round yon Virgin Mother and Child
Holy Infant so tender and mild
Sleep in heavenly peace
Sleep in heavenly peace Minerva had no idea that Albus possessed such a wonderful voice, and she rested her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes and letting his warm baritone wash over her. When the song was over, she was reluctant to pull away from his warm embrace, but she also wanted to get back to her rooms and mull over the new feelings that were stirring within her.
“We’d better get some sleep. We have a trial first thing in the morning,” Albus said softly, losing himself in Minerva’s eyes. The Christmas lights strung behind her glinted off her hair and gave the appearance that she had a halo.
“Yes, I suppose so.” She agreed, stepping out of his arms.
“You look like an angel,” the words were out of his mouth before his brain realized it, and he mentally kicked himself.
She blushed and smiled. “Thank you. Off to bed now. We need to prove you’re not crazy tomorrow. Well, not too crazy.” She amended, trying to lighten the air that had suddenly become very thick.
“Good night, my dear.” He said softly.
“Good night, Albus.” She replied in the same tone, before disappearing down the spiral staircase.
Mid-morning the next day found the pair about to enter the courtroom. There was a crowd of people milling around outside the door, but only Albus and Minerva were allowed inside.
“This is madness,” Minerva muttered. Though she had slept well last night she could not put aside her worries and be perfectly calm as Albus seemed to be. Gripping his arm tighter, she pressed closer to him, hoping to be able to soak up some of that calm energy, otherwise she would go crazy before the ridiculous affair even began. When the door closed behind them, and they were alone in the antechamber, Albus stopped and pulled Minerva into a gentle hug.
“You’re more worried about this than I am,” he said chuckling quietly.
“I still don’t think you’re worried enough,” she mumbled into his shoulder.
“It’s Christmas, don’t you have faith?” he asked.
“Not yet, I don’t.” she said.
“Well there’s your problem. You have to believe that everything will turn out all right.”
“I wish I could, Albus. I wish I could.”
“Then I will just have to have enough faith for the both of us. I will be playing chess with you by the fire tomorrow night, and we will open presents together Christmas morning and then spend the rest of the day together. Just like we do every year. I will come out of this on top, Minerva. I’m not going anywhere.” He told her.
In a flash of Gryffindor courage, she leaned up on her toes and pressed her lips to his in a kiss so quick he wasn’t entirely sure that it even happened. The next thing he knew, he was sitting in a chair, facing the board of governors and the Minister of Magic.
“Albus Dumbledore, you are accused of spreading lies, creating mass hysteria, and being unfit to run Hogwarts due to unstable mentality. How do you plead?” Fudge asked from his position on the platform.
“Not guilty.” Dumbledore replied coolly.
“You claim the Dark Lord has returned. What evidence have you?” asked one of the governors.
“Only my word, and the word of Harry Potter.”
“You cannot take the word of a senile old man and a boy that he’s obviously brainwashed!” Fudge cried.
“Tell me, Cornelius, how did Cedric Diggory die?” Albus responded, the flash of anger in his blue eyes the only outward sign that he was not completely collected.
“An unfortunate accident.” Fudge said matter of factly.
“Dumbledore,” one of the governors spoke up. “Why do you continue to fight the Dark Lord, if he has in fact returned? Surely there are those better suited for the job.”
“I fight for a cause I believe in. I fight so that someday, we can sit around the fire Christmas morning with our family and not have to worry if this might be the last holiday we have. I fight because I know the facts and if I left them to people like you, half the wizarding population would fall victim to ‘unfortunate accidents’ before you acknowledged the fact that we have a war on our hands.” His voice was calm, but firm.
“There is no war!” Fudge cried, “You’re just a crazy old man, creating fantasies so you can feel like the hero again. That’s all it is, isn’t it? You defeated Grindlewald, and you were the golden one, the hero of the world. Now it’s the Potter boy’s turn and it’s eating you alive that you’re not in the limelight anymore. It’s driving you mad, so you have to invent stories, of the Dark Lord rising again, just so you can go out and fight and play the hero again. Tell me Dumbledore, at the end of your crazy fairy tale, do you get to rescue the fair maiden too?”
Albus remained silent, and let the man rant.
“You see? He doesn’t deny it! Because I speak the truth! The man is mad!”
“He is not!” an angry voice rang out from the back of the room. Albus turned, and saw Minerva stand and walk toward the front. “He is not mad, Cornelius, but you are blind! You accuse him of fabricating stories, and you have the audacity to sit before us and do the same thing! This man has done nothing but good for the wizarding world, and you tarnish his name and call him a lunatic because he speaks the truth, and the truth is not something that you want to hear! If Albus Dumbledore says Voldmort has returned, then by God, he has and you should be preparing for an inevitable war, not wasting your resources on some asinine trial! Let me ask you, Minister, what is madness? Can you define it? Perhaps to be too practical is madness, to surrender dreams, this may be madness, to seek treasure where there is only trash. Too much
sanity,” she fairly spat the word at him, “may be madness. And then there are people like you, Cornelius, the people who don’t fight for anything at all. Albus Dumbledore fights for a better tomorrow, for peace, for love, for happiness, and you condemn him. Maddest of all, are those like you, who see life as it
is, not as it
should be.”
The room fell silent, and then, from the very end of the row of governors, came the sound of applause. One man at the end was clapping, and soon, they all were. All but Cornelius, that is, who looked as though he’d eaten something sour, when he saw that his support was dissipating.
“Well done, Professor,” the man to Fudge’s right said. “I think I speak for all of us when I say, ‘case dismissed,” he reached over for Fudge’s gavel and banged it once. “And Cornelius, stop wasting our time.”
The governors rose, and filed out of the room, with Fudge following like a dog, begging them to listen to reason. When the door slammed shut behind the last one, Albus rose from his chair, and pulled Minerva into his arms, lifting her from the floor and swinging her around. When he set her down again, he pulled back just enough to look into her eyes.
“That was quite the speech, Tabby. Thank you.”
“You promised to be with me for Christmas. I was just helping you keep that promise.” She told him.
“You see? I told you. You just had to have faith.”
“Now I do.” She said softly.
“I only have one more question,” he said, “That kiss earlier did happen, didn’t it?”
“Only if you wanted it to,” Minerva said shyly, not meeting his eyes.
“Did you?” he asked, tilting her chin up with one finger so he could see her face.
“I’ve only wanted it for the last forty years.” She whispered.
Albus chuckled. “Well, why didn’t you say so? So have I.”
Without another word, he tightened his arms around her and pressed his lips to hers. She melted into his kiss, holding him tightly, happier than she’d even been. Just when they were about to suffocate, he broke the kiss, and said, “Let’s go home, my darling. I have a feeling this is going to be the best Christmas ever.”