Title: A Wistful Leaving.

Rating: 13+

Spoiler: Set somewhere after Ootp, and could be throughout HBP. But you might need a magnifying glass to even find the slightest spoiler for HBP Oo

Summary: Dumbledore was gone a lot during HBP, went on various trips that had something to do with war, and Voldemort. Just a little scene with him telling his deputy he's leaving. My first fic after the release of HBP. Now, I did this, very sleep deprived, in the middle of the night... It's not that brilliant written ;) I think I must have dozed off at least a hundred times...

"Lumos," the whispered incarnation brought a flame of light to life. Darkness flounced away with a mighty alacrity, gone to hide in corners as threatening shadows. With a small pause he let his gaze sweep over the room, noticing the dulling embers glowing in the fireplace. Maybe she was still awake? That was a pleasant thought to him. The last months had been hectic, and this was certainly not the first time he came to her chambers in the early mornings or late evenings. The very idea of not having to wake her up from a deep nurturing sleep was elating.

A few quick steps brought him to her bedroom door with anticipation he turned down the doorknob, and flinched inevitable at the hinges loud squeaking. A look at the bed and his hopes were dashed – lying peacefully under a thin cover of sheet on her stomach was a woman, indeed sleeping soundly. Light as a feather he went over and sat down at the edge of the bed, enjoying a few minutes silence. She was hugging her pillow, not tightly, merely holding it loosely. As much as he hated doing this, to her, he knew that in doing nothing but stretching time, he would get nowhere. It was unavoidable.

"Minerva," he gently spoke as he prodded her bare arm trying to awaken her. He sighed as he got nothing from her that reminded of a reaction. He tried again and this time he was fortunate. The response however was minimal. The woman, Minerva, mumbled an incoherent word, and rolled over on her side, her back facing him. Trice is the lucky number he thought as he shrugged and let his hand softly shake her.

"Go away!"

"Minerva, dear, I've got to talk to you," he told her, glad she was showing symptoms of being awake. The words had barely left his lips and she rolled over on her back, eyelids fluttering tiredly.

"Mmhm," she slurred, but nonetheless turned away from him again to go back to sleep. This time the glass on her nightstand filled with water to the brim got a wistful look. No, he dared not!

"If I remember correctly, cats do terribly despise water, right?"

Minerva spun around and was sitting up, alert with dishevelled hair. She awkwardly tried to pull her sheet closer around her, but her feet were all tangled up in it.

"Why do you insist on awakening me with such a crude tactic?"

"I figured it would be a success," he told her with a smile. "I'm so sorry to wake you, dear, again. But as previous this is important. I'll be gone for a couple of days." Instantly her eyes went from dull green to a fierce emerald, her lips thinned, and her whole being radiated stubbornness. Yet again, he thought to himself with a groan. Forgetting her condition she stopped fidgeting with the sheet and instead focussed on attempting to glare holes in his robes.

"Minerva-" he was violently interrupted as she jumped up from her bed, standing profusely above him frowning. She didn't let him speak.

"Are you planning on telling me the reason behind your little trip this time? I don't know why you even bother using your time to come here and wake me when you won't even tell me where you going? And why? Merlin, you won't tell me anything," she paused with a heave for air, and was about to go on but apparently decided against it. Letting out a sigh she sagged against her bed on the floor. He had listened to her with a heavy heart, feeling the burden of guilt and sorrow perched on his shoulders. Yet he knew he would not tell her. Not where he was going or why. There were too many complications. If he told her he was going on a little adventure to gather memoirs on Voldemort, and other useful information, she would insist on going with him. Or by chance endanger herself, even more than she already was in. He couldn't allow that. Then he would rather have the pleasure of enduring her wrath. Trying to ease the atmosphere between them he lightly put a hand on her shoulder, wanting to sooth her. He couldn't say he was remotely surprised when she brushed his hand away. After a while however she whispered in a small voice,

"I know, I know. The less who knows, the less will be in danger. It's nothing big, just a bit of Order business. I know."

"Minerva-"

"Don't say anything, Albus," she interrupted him again as she heaved herself up from the floor to sit right next to him on the bed, her bare thigh lightly touching his three coloured pants. Taking hold of her hand he gave it a gently squeeze, and stood up preparing to leave.

"Take care Minerva; I'll be here again before you can say 'Sherbet Lemon'," he let go of her hand, sadly seeing she was still eyeing her curtains. He bent down and softly kissed the top of her head, inhaled her scent for a second. And then left – heavy heart, heavy mind – closing her bedroom door behind him with a low thud.

Albus Dumbledore was out of Hogwarts grounds when Minerva answered him with a miserable voice: "Take care."

With a moan wrenched from her lungs she lay down on her bed, wondering how long it would be until he was back. And how long it was going to be until she could sleep again. Those two questions were one she realised. She would sleep when Albus came home.

Pal