This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Hogwarts castle was never truly empty, but only had momentary bouts of silence. The castle was quiet at night, though. Most, if not all students were snuggled into their beds, dreaming peacefully (or not, in some cases). Most of the professors, likewise, were also in bed, the only usual exception being Professor Sinistra, who was charting a rare alignment of the planets from the Astronomy Tower.

Albus couldn't sleep, and as usual, he found himself sitting in the Great Hall, staring up at the enchanted ceiling. He was normally able to sleep when he wished, but occasionally, his mind would not simply shut off when commanded. Dressed simply in trousers and a black jumper with a warming spell on it, he thought, sitting in his chair at the High Table.

He thought of the forced smiles of some of the students at the breakfast to come, thought of the circumstances that forced those children to force smiles at all, and thought of the last time such an event had happened, nearly twenty years before. He also thought of a time fifty years before, when they had thought that they were safe from evil for the rest of their lives.

"It all seemed so much simpler then, didn't it?"

His eyes shifted to the doorway, where Minerva stood, clad in a green tartan robe, belted tightly to prevent any glimpse of what she wore beneath it. It didn't surprise him at all that she knew precisely what he was thinking. She had been able to do it for years.

"Yes, it did," he finally spoke. Keeping his eyes on her, he marveled at her still-apparent beauty as she sat down beside him, in her usual chair, tucking her feet under her legs to keep them warm. He reached out a hand and trailed a finger down the soft curve of her face, mesmerized by the softness of her skin. He wasn't surprised when she pulled away a bit.

"Albus, someone might see us."

"Who? Theadora is up in her tower, and everyone else is asleep."

She sighed. It was hard to deny him anything, but habits were habits, and they had kept their marriage a secret for a very good reason. He seemed to understand this, and let his hand drop under the table. Tangling his fingers with hers, she felt a soft squeeze, letting her know that he wasn't angry at all. They sat there in silence for a while, not needing any words, just gazing up at the ceiling, holding hands beneath the table.

"It's going to happen soon, isn't it?"

He could not lie to her. He could do a number of things, but lying to his wife was not one of them. He nodded.

She nodded in return, feeling the tears well up in her eyes. Every day was a risk, and she knew the day they were married that she would someday lose him, to the ravages of old age, or to a dark wizard. But it still didn't hurt any less to send him out to fight a battle that he may or may not lose, while she stayed behind to govern and protect Hogwarts, since Albus could not conceive of leaving the school undefended. The first time, fifty years before, they had no other choice: Albus had to fight. But with Voldemort, it should have been so easy for them to let others carry the burden, to let the younger generation take up the cause. But there was no other. Albus, her husband, her love, once again had to take up a fight to protect others. Closing her eyes, she let her mind run through over fifty years of memories and said a silent prayer that there would be many more years for them to make memories with.

This time, when she felt his hand on her cheek, she didn't shrug it off. After the war was over, would she never feel his hand on her cheek again? Would she never get to touch his dear, beloved face? Would she never hear him mock-complain of her ability to read his mind? Would they never share another game of chess or a quiet drink of tea at the end of a long day? Opening her eyes, she immediately drowned in Albus's bright blue ones.

She felt a solitary tear leak out of the corner of her eye and trace a cool path down her cheek. "I don't what I would do without you," she whispered.

"I will always be with you, love. Forever."

Shifting her face, she pressed a kiss into the palm of his hand. "I love you."

"And I you." They sat there in silence for a few moments before he spoke again. "It's almost sunrise."

She nodded, not wanting to speak.

He looked at her. "I have the strongest urge to dance right now."

She blinked. "There is no music to dance to."

He placed a hand over her heart. "This is all the music we need. Grant me a waltz before sunrise?"

She almost said no, that anyone could walk in, but she could not bring herself to form the words. "I have no shoes," is what she said instead.

He smiled. "When have you ever needed shoes? But, if you insist." Waving his wand, he easily transfigured a flower into a pair of shoes, sized just for her. Standing he offered his hand. "Dance with me, Minerva."

Slipping on the shoes, which must look odd combined with her sleepwear, she stood and accepted his hand. He lead her down to where the students ate, and with another wave of his wand, the tables were gently placed off to the side, with no noise of their movement. Bowing gallantly, she curtseyed in return, and moved closer, standing in position to begin their waltz. At some unspoken pre-arranged signal, they moved together, moving effortlessly across the floor, gently rising and falling in time to unheard music, their eyes never leaving the other's. Slowly, as if it were planned in advance, they moved closer, their turns becoming faster, their steps more fluid until finally, the waltz came to an end.

He would have moved away before she said anything, but her hand on his face stopped him. She wanted more memories than just their waltz. "Come back to bed, love. Give me a lifetime of memories."

He wrapped his arms around her and rested his head against hers. "Anything you ask, Minerva." He leaned down and pressed his lips against hers. "Anything at all."

-The End.