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: Hey This is a lil fic. Enjoy! ;) Oh, and I shamelessly added the bit about the location, out of patriotisim! GO CANADA! MANITOBA ROCKS! P.S. They are young here, probably about...oh say...MInerva is about thirty and Dumbledore is, like 45. I made them young or a *reason*! ;) Disclaimer: I don\'t own Harry Potter nor do I own the ORIGINAL idea for this plot, basicly..the Minerva-visits-albus-at-his-cottage thing. ALl rights for that, belong to LadyBush of FF.net! oh, and J.K Rowling owns the Harry Potter stuff... ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Albus watched Minervas retreating back and placed his head in his hands. The students had just left for the summer, and Minerva seemed to have had to bear alot this year. They all had. "She just seems so stressed this year." He said, speaking to his pet Pheonix Fawks, who just looked at him sideways and said nothing. "I wish I could help." Suddenly, he realized what He always did for a bit of R and R. Go to his cottage! He could invite Minerva and she could be well relaxed for the next year. There was only one tiny problem. Getting up the guts to ask her. After pacing accross his study, many times, to the amusement of Fawks, he decided on putting it in a letter. Sitting down, and summoning a quill from the drawer, he dipped it in ink and began to write the letter. But He didn't have a single Idea. He just stared at the paper expectantly, as if it were to write itself. With a sigh, he unnessicarily dipped his quill again, and put it to the paper. Professor Mcgonagall, No, No. That was too formal. Dear Minerva, Yes, that was better. After a few drafts and four sheets of parchment, He finaly came out with a draft he was satisfied with. Walking over to Fawks' perch, he carefully tied the letter to the Pheonix's leg, and watched him off into the sky and around to Minerva's quarters where she would doubtlessly be preparing new lesson plans for the next year, or packing to go to her Summer Home in London where she had all-access to the Ministry of Magic. It was most likely the latter. She was such a work-aholic Albus stood at the window watching the sun slowly fade behind the horizon, leaving behind the glow in the sky, that suggested that it was still present, just hiding. Tearing his eyes from the glowing-beauty that was the skyline, he walked past Fawk's now empty perch and to his own quarters to retire for the night. Reaching his room he looked at a large blanket, embriodered with the Gryffindor Lion. With a smile, he thought how appropriate that the Lion was significant to Minerva's house. In a way, they were equally alike. On the outside, intimidating, majestic, and intellegent, But everyone knows, that on the inside, she's just a Pussy cat. Meanwhile, Minerva was standing in her room, dressed in a deep green robe, with her ebony hair loose in locks cascading down her back, and staring at the retreating sun wistfully. The sun was going to hide again, and leave the moon in charge. Suddenly, over the horizon, she saw a most alarming sight. An enormous, red and gold...thing was racing at full speed towards her window, gaining spped. She wondered for a moment wether or not to close the window. (A/N: Familiar? think PoA...or GoF..one of the two...) Reaching down, and putting on her glasses, Minerva kept staring at the red gold blur coming at her at an alarming speed. Immediately realizing what this was, she stepped to the side, just as a magnificant Red and Gold bird flew in her window and landed with a soft flump on her Scarlet Fourposter, not unlike the ones that were in the students dormitories. "Fawks." She breathed. She rushed over to remove the letter attached to his leg, and offer him a buiscuit. Sitting down at her desk, and lighting the candels with a flick of her wand, she placed her glasses on her nose again and read the letter. As she read, an involuntary smile crept onto her face. The letter read: Dear Minerva, I've noticed that you seemed to be bearing alot on your shoulders lately and decided that you need a break, which is why I am asking the pleasure of your company, when I take my annual visit to my summer home in North America. Many People think it's a ridiculous place for a summer home, but Canada Is quite charming, I've found. So if you accept, which I sincerely hope you do, please send word with fawks immediately. If you decline, I assure you you may take your time. SIncerely, Albus Minerva smiled down at the letter, then, after a few moment's thought, grabbed a quill and A sheaf of parchment and hastily wrote a reply. After seeing Fawks off into the night, she sat down on her bed, and lay her head down on one of the soft, gold trimmed pillows, deep in thought. She'd heard Albus speak of his Summer Cottage many times, and couldn't help smiling at the idea of visiting it. According to Albus, it was a charming, wood place, set deep in a secluded area on the edge of a lake. It had sounded beautiful, and she couldn't deny that she wanted to visit it. Sighing contentedly, she rolled over onto another pillow, falling immediately to sleep, without even pulling up the comforter. In Albus's office, quite the opposite situation was occuring. Far from being able to sleep, Albus found himself sitting at his desk, again, with a Mug of Hot Chocolate, anxiously awaiting Fawkes' return. The candlelight was shimmering off his auburn hair, and short Auburn beard. When he saw the bird soar through the window with a letter attached to his leg, a sense of reliefe flooded him. He smiled and looked at the response. Dear Albus, I'd love to accompany you to your cottage, it sounds like a great time. I am willing to forgive you, for your bird nearly giving me a heart attack. Minerva A. Mcgonagall Chuckling, he lay the letter down, extingueshed the candles and headed off to bed, fully content.

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