Left With More Than a Memory

Return

"May I have a word Mr Dumbledore? In private"

The man said nothing, simply bowed his head in assent and lifted a section of the bar top for her to pass through. He stood aside and she entered ahead of him into the back room. She turned to face him as she heard the click of the door.

"Can I get you anything professor?" he said cooly. His voice cut through her like a cold wind. It was like listening to a memory in a pensieve. It sounded like him. But she knew it wasn't real.

"No thank you, I'm alright"

He poured himself a fire whiskey and gestured for her to take a seat in a rather battered looking old armchair. She did so and after stoking the fire between them he sat across from her.

"What can I do for you?"

Minerva was not quite sure where to begin. Or even how to begin. Aberforth took some of the edge off by breaking the silence.

"I assume this is to do with my late brother? Although I am not sure how much help I can be to you. We were, as I'm sure you know, not exactly confidantes"

"It is to do with Albus. Mr Dumbledo-

"Aberforth, please"

"Aberforth" she corrected herself, taking a breath and dropping her gaze to her hands. "I don't want anything from you. Before I begin I need you to know that. That's not why I've come. I came because I have something I feel you have a right to know" She inhaled deeply and raised her head to face him. She decided there was nothing for it but to just be out with it.

"Albus is the father of my child"

For the first time that evening something broke through the stoic countenance across from her. The unnervingly familiar eyes flashed for a moment with unmistakeable shock. But their masking cloud returned as quickly as it had been broken through. Aberforth placed his drink noiselessly down beside him.

"Were the two of you-"

"We were not. It was...complicated"

"I imagine it was." He paused a moment. "Did he know?"

"He did not. Very few do"

He sat back in his chair and brought a pensive hand to his chin. She wondered what he would say, what he would ask. There was something brewing behind those guarded eyes.

"Will the child be raised as a Dumbledore?"

"I haven't decided yet. I need time to think about what that would mean for the child. What kind of rumours would follow them around if they were. The context of our relationship, whether or not it was the truth to begin with. And I think we both know that a child of Dumbledore would walk around with a target on their back. And that would be a death warrant if things...if things don't go our way in the next few months"

He met her gaze as she continued

"My only priority is the safety of my child. And right now, that safety is ensured by secrecy. And so, until I know more of how the world will fall, secrecy shall remain. But I cannot say it will so forever"

Aberforth sat quietly with this for many moments.

"I understand. And you have my word on it." He shifted slightly in his chair.

"Aside from named possessions and a few small sums, ones I understand you benefitted in a small part from, as his next of kin I was left the bulk of what remained to Albus financially. With your permission I would like to put those funds in trust for your child"

"Aberforth I'm not asking you to do that at all, I-"

"I know you are not. But it is what he would have wanted, what he would have done. And I have no want nor need of anything of his. I did not hold my brother in very high regard. But I knew him once."

Minerva did not know how to answer.

"Thank you"

The two looked at each other without a word for a moment. Feeling there was nothing more left to say and with the exhaustion of the day returned with force by the warmth of the room, Minerva stood to take her leave. Aberforth rose as well and held out his hand. She took it.

"Goodnight Professor."

"Minerva. Please."

"Goodnight Minerva."

"Goodnight Aberforth." She ended the handshake a moved toward the door.

"May I see the child?" he called after her.

She stopped and turned to look at him. Another look had broken onto his face. One of a genuine, hopeful sincerity.

"Of course you may." she said quietly "As often as you like. I will write to you"

He bowed and she left the room. Outside again, a rapidly melting snowflake ran down her warm face as she replaced her hat. Pulling on her gloves she threw her shoulders back before she walked away. Almost as though to shake off a ghost.

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