A/N: So Sorry to keep you waiting, my computer refused to connect to the internet for four whole days (I know, the horror!). But here is the final chapter, if you wanted this to be an angst fic, read no more. Enjoy!
Disclaimer: Alas, my initials, are not JKR, therefore, I own nothing from HP.
I won't stand for it anymore! Minerva fumed, as she changed direction for the fourth time, turning back toward the Headmaster's office, it's been three days since we walked away from that mirror, yet he still looks as if something is bothering him. What could it be? He always talks to me about everything! Now, every time he sees me, he finds some petty reason to head in the opposite direction. Well, I'm sick of it! And whether Minerva McGonagall would admit it, she missed Albus. She missed having absurd conversations about how sock colors match people's moods, or being asked her opinion of this composer's string quartet. She just missed Albus Dumbledore.
Which was why she found herself marching up the stairs to the headmaster's office. Barely pausing to knock, she flung the door open to Albus's absent minded "come in" and swished over to his desk before erupting.
"Albus Dumbledore, I have had enough! I refuse to let something you saw in some dusty old mirror ruin our relationship. Something's bothering you, and I refuse to leave until you ease my mind!" With that, she snapped onto the edge of one of Albus's overstuffed chairs.
The look on Albus's face was inscrutable. Well, almost inscrutable, Minerva thought, After all, you don't spend the better part of forty years working with a man, and still be unable to read his expressions. There was a stab of apprehension (he would be a fool, if he wasn't little scared of Minerva McGonagall's temper), a blush of realization at discovering he had been so obvious, a sigh a resignation, and still something a bit like, regret? Could Albus Dumbledore be feeling guilty? Minerva strained closer to the desk, as if listening for an answer from the papers towering there.
"Ah, Minerva," Dumbledore sighed, "I should have known better than to hide this from you." Minerva's almost-smug I know you too well smile was greeted by a resigned grin as he continued, "Unfortunately, as this is a matter of the heart, words will prove inadequate. Therefore, I believe, a trip into the pensive will serve to better demonstrate my predicament."
"A memory, Ablus?" Minerva's eyebrows rose, "But which…"
"Everything will be explained," Dumbledore replied as he pulled her over to the shimmering bowl, "After you, my dear."
Minerva found herself standing in the abandoned class room that, until recently, had housed the mirror of Erised. In the memory, Dumbledore was standing in front of the mirror, totally entranced by whatever its tain revealed. Albus appeared next to her.
"This is the night Harry visited the mirror for the last time." Albus answered her questioning glance.
"But surely, since I was there, there is nothing for me to see…" Minerva protested.
"The Mirror is a curious thing, Minerva," Albus breathed, "A man can only see his own heart's desire, never that of anyone else. But you will find, that when reliving a memory, since you are looking from the perspective of someone else, you may see what they say in the mirror."
Minerva was silenced by this until Albus added, "Go, look in the mirror, all your questions will be answered."
Minerva crept behind the pensive-Dumbledore and peered into the mirror, only to be jolted with disappointment. Albus was wrong. The mirror did not reveal the answer to her questions, she saw only the same reflection as the night before.
"Albus, you're wrong, I see nothing different." Minerva cried whirling to face the weary looking wizard behind her.
"Y-you don't see anything…" but here his voice trailed off, and something ignited in the corner of his eye, whether it was a tear, or his customary gleam, she could never recall, because at that moment, she was swept off her feet, and out of the memory.
"Albus! Put me down!" She shrieked, for the first time in her life, truly afraid he was raving mad. "I told you I saw nothing diff…" Then, catching sight of the gargantuan grin that threatened to engulf Albus's face, realization crept into her methodically stern features. "You mean… you were right then… you just… I saw…Albus?" She said uncertainly, feeling her knees begin to buckle.
"My dear Minerva!" Dumbledore shouted, grabbing her up again and cutting a loony jig round the delicate silver instruments, "It means that, not only am I madly in love with you, but you feel the same way about me!"
"I am? I mean, you do?" Minerva's face was slipping away from confusion into a state of genuine bliss, "Well? What are you going to do about it, Albus Dumbledore?" She playfully demanded, pulling away from the prancing headmaster, and facing him squarely.
"This!" And he grabbed her round the waist and pulled her in for a long over-due, but well timed, snogging.
They were married, in secret, on New Years Day. Albus insisted on secrecy to protect Minerva. But the staff witnessed one of the most joyous unions in the history of the school. And the students, who were at first baffled by her inane cheerfulness at the start of term, decided that she must have planned the wicked finals in the history of Hogwarts, and proceeded to study harder then ever. Surprisingly, (and whether it was due to the students applying themselves, or from Albus's influence on her temperament, Minerva would never say) the class average for that year was higher than any of Professor McGonagall's previous years teaching.
There you go, sorry angst lovers, but at this festive time of the year, it would be unthinkable for me to leave a story without a happy ending.