Post by Bola on Sept 9, 2011 10:40:04 GMT -5
Minerva’s eyebrow quirked as she eyed Poppy Pomfrey, her best female companion since their partially joined time at Hogwarts. The Head of Gryffindor House tugged at the ribbon of the gift Poppy had just offered her. Most of the time after dinner in the Great Hall, the colleagues would gather in the staff room to celebrate one of theirs’ birthday. Any gift that might be involved was usually given there. Minerva McGonagall thus had been rather surprised to say the least upon opening her door at six-thirty in the morn to reveal the school’s nurse and Matron, already offering her gift.
She had been awake – it was no secret to any colleague of hers that Minerva Mcgonagall was and always had been a rather early riser. She usually woke about five in the morning. She had never needed much sleep, not even as a child. The oddity, however, was Poppy’s early arrival. Minerva never got such early visitors unless in emergencies… and certainly not Poppy. In fact, Poppy rarely came in her chambers. Being best companions and having been so for many years, they of course shared a bottle of malt sometimes in the evenings, but that was somehow usually in Poppy’s rooms. That combined with the awkward too cheeky grin on the other woman’s face left Minerva suspecting something… odd was going on – whether or not that had to do with the gift. “I still have another, which I’ll hand you tonight,” she had said upon entering her best companion’s rooms.
Thirty-five was often seen as a mile in a woman’s life – the age when most of them were married with children or at least had hope to become so. The age when one could see the first lines of ages catch up with them and could begin worrying about any other signs of becoming older in appearance. Minerva McGonagall was turning thirty-five that day. She was not married. She did not have children. She had no hopes of this changing anytime soon even though there were offers from one particular wizard. It didn’t feel right.
No laugh lines were visible on her still-youthful face, and many guessed her to be at least a decade older when they didn’t know about her true age. From that day on those little hidden complimentary notions would decrease, she knew. She wouldn’t remain looking like barely being mid-twenties forever.
The smile on Poppy Pomfrey’s face was unreadable, and if one really had to give it a name, one would describe it as… nervous, maybe. The ribbon finally unbound, Minerva slowly lifted the cover of the little box, pushing aside the soft paper that hid the gift itself from view. Even though she could have guessed that the gift would be all but appropriate given the circumstances, and even though she knew that deep inside Poppy Pomfrey had a truly awkward sense of humor she never would have expected that. She just gazed at the metallic gift with unbelievable eyes, barely hearing her best companion’s burst into giggly roars of laughter. She never quite knew how priceless her face had been upon realizing just what her gift was.
Minerva slowly reached into the box, lifting a pair of metallic handcuffs from it and finally redirecting her eyes to Poppy, whose face was flushed by then. “I knew that you had a… weird sense of humor to say the least, most of the time hidden by your medicinal talk and expertise in Healing, Poppy Pomfrey… but this? What was going on in your mind upon buying… this?” she questioned.
“Come on, Minerva…” Poppy tried. “You should have some more fun in life.”
“Why do I suspect that you’re focusing on that one type of fun in particular?” Minerva rhetorically asked.
“You should get laid more often,” Poppy Pomfrey said with a flair of boldness which no one ever would expect from Hogwarts’ nurse in later years. However, she had been young once as well… just like Minerva. One could change a lot over the years, and somehow it seemed quite typical that the older one actually became, the more reserved they became, too.
“Poppy Pomfrey!”
________________________________________
“Here are thy rooms, my lady,” Albus Dumbledore said, shakily lifting her hand to his lips and kissing it.
Minerva blushed – something she usually did not do… unless after a couple of whiskeys, which in that case she certainly had downed. One couldn’t expect the birthday girl not to enjoy her own party, of course. “Maybe I could interest you in cracking that one bottle I got from a certain Mr. Dumbledore?” she asked. She didn’t feel tired yet then, and she knew Albus Dumbledore’s sleeping patterns were quite like hers in many ways: he never got to bed before midnight, and yet every morning before the sun rose he would be awake and well rested nonetheless.
“Minerva…” he said, his little gentlemanly behavior falling away while taking responsibility for he obviously was the least inebriated of them. “I believe that you’ve had enough for tonight. Your head will already be sore in the morn.”
“Well, then why not have some more fun?” she said. “If, as you say now, I’ll be carrying the consequences already, then why should I not make the most of it? I’m not tired yet…” He voice sounded whiney and teasing. “I’m Scottish, Albus. I don’t get intoxicated so easily.”
“I know, my dear,” he said. “However, I’d dare say this is one of the rare occasions you are. Anyone would be with the amount of alcohol consumed by you alone this night.”
“Albus! Please, don’t be like that… You only turn thirty-five once!”
“I’m well aware, but that doesn’t change the fact that you should be capable of teaching tomorrow, as it’ll be a regular school day.”
“I will!” she exclaimed.
His vivid blue eyes connected with her teal green ones. He sighed. “Very well…” Usually they agreed on one glass… This time, he realized, he had just agreed on one entire bottle. He could have facepalmed.
________________________________________
“I must admit I was rather surprised by Cuthbert’s gift to say the least,” Albus said, rising from the couch to walk over to the desk, to which all her gifts had been banished earlier. She said that she would store them well later – likely the day after. He reached for a the red tartan shawl, lifting it from between the other little gifts and holding it up against the light. “It would suit you. I never would have expected this from him.”
“Me neither,” Minerva said, still sitting on the wide couch while sipping from her malt. As Albus turned, him not being entirely sober anymore either, he accidentally hit one little box from the desk, the lid flying off as it landed on the carpet and its content falling onto the carpet with a heavy thud before the lighter box joined it a few inches further.
Minerva’s eyes darted to toward the sound, and she could have sunk through the couch from embarrassment as Albus quietly waved his wand and eyed the metallic handcuffs with a look of surprise and amusement on his face. “Well, well,” he said.
“That’s not mine,” Minerva said, moving upright as well and walking over to where he stood, taking the pair of metallic handcuffs from the air. She blushed as Albus’ vivid blue eyes slid over her in disbelief. “Poppy thought that… I should have more fun.”
“You seem to be capable enough to enjoy yourself,” Albus noted, referring to her rather giggly behavior of earlier. She looked uncannily sober right then as he eyed his former pupil and Transfiguration Professor.
She couldn’t look him in the eye, her blush if possible only deepening. She turned with the handcuffs still in hand. “That kind of fun…” she whispered. “I haven’t… in years.”
“Neither have I,” Albus admitted. “That doesn’t mean that I’m unhappy or incapable of enjoying myself, though.”
Minerva’s inebriated mind saw another meaning in the last couple of words that Albus intended, and she began giggling aloud. Albus merely eyed his former pupil confused until realization downed upon him, too. Oh Merlin… The rest of the bottle would have to wait until another time…
“I’m sorry, Albus,” Minerva spoke as she turned to face him again, doing her best to look and sound serious once more. However, the imbalance typically caused by such amount of alcoholic beverage left her nearly falling, reaching for Albus as he reached for hers. A soft click sounded, and as they both looked down onto the source of the sound as Minerva finally stood steady again, they saw that accidentally the handcuff had closed itself around one of Albus’s wrists. Minerva looked up into his eyes and without fully realizing what in the name she was actually doing, she leaned up onto her toes and kissed him, giving in under that vivid blue glow. He had always truly had beautiful eyes… So penetrating… “Maybe Poppy’s right…” she said. “Maybe I should get laid more often. I, however, fear her little gift has already chosen my participant, too…”
“You’re unsteady on the legs, my dear,” Albus said, noticing her waving on her feet.
“Then take me to my bed, my knight!” she called.
Albus knew he had no choice but to get her to bed, or she would most likely never make it there anymore. Somehow, he never actually left that particular bed until morn, though.
She had been awake – it was no secret to any colleague of hers that Minerva Mcgonagall was and always had been a rather early riser. She usually woke about five in the morning. She had never needed much sleep, not even as a child. The oddity, however, was Poppy’s early arrival. Minerva never got such early visitors unless in emergencies… and certainly not Poppy. In fact, Poppy rarely came in her chambers. Being best companions and having been so for many years, they of course shared a bottle of malt sometimes in the evenings, but that was somehow usually in Poppy’s rooms. That combined with the awkward too cheeky grin on the other woman’s face left Minerva suspecting something… odd was going on – whether or not that had to do with the gift. “I still have another, which I’ll hand you tonight,” she had said upon entering her best companion’s rooms.
Thirty-five was often seen as a mile in a woman’s life – the age when most of them were married with children or at least had hope to become so. The age when one could see the first lines of ages catch up with them and could begin worrying about any other signs of becoming older in appearance. Minerva McGonagall was turning thirty-five that day. She was not married. She did not have children. She had no hopes of this changing anytime soon even though there were offers from one particular wizard. It didn’t feel right.
No laugh lines were visible on her still-youthful face, and many guessed her to be at least a decade older when they didn’t know about her true age. From that day on those little hidden complimentary notions would decrease, she knew. She wouldn’t remain looking like barely being mid-twenties forever.
The smile on Poppy Pomfrey’s face was unreadable, and if one really had to give it a name, one would describe it as… nervous, maybe. The ribbon finally unbound, Minerva slowly lifted the cover of the little box, pushing aside the soft paper that hid the gift itself from view. Even though she could have guessed that the gift would be all but appropriate given the circumstances, and even though she knew that deep inside Poppy Pomfrey had a truly awkward sense of humor she never would have expected that. She just gazed at the metallic gift with unbelievable eyes, barely hearing her best companion’s burst into giggly roars of laughter. She never quite knew how priceless her face had been upon realizing just what her gift was.
Minerva slowly reached into the box, lifting a pair of metallic handcuffs from it and finally redirecting her eyes to Poppy, whose face was flushed by then. “I knew that you had a… weird sense of humor to say the least, most of the time hidden by your medicinal talk and expertise in Healing, Poppy Pomfrey… but this? What was going on in your mind upon buying… this?” she questioned.
“Come on, Minerva…” Poppy tried. “You should have some more fun in life.”
“Why do I suspect that you’re focusing on that one type of fun in particular?” Minerva rhetorically asked.
“You should get laid more often,” Poppy Pomfrey said with a flair of boldness which no one ever would expect from Hogwarts’ nurse in later years. However, she had been young once as well… just like Minerva. One could change a lot over the years, and somehow it seemed quite typical that the older one actually became, the more reserved they became, too.
“Poppy Pomfrey!”
________________________________________
“Here are thy rooms, my lady,” Albus Dumbledore said, shakily lifting her hand to his lips and kissing it.
Minerva blushed – something she usually did not do… unless after a couple of whiskeys, which in that case she certainly had downed. One couldn’t expect the birthday girl not to enjoy her own party, of course. “Maybe I could interest you in cracking that one bottle I got from a certain Mr. Dumbledore?” she asked. She didn’t feel tired yet then, and she knew Albus Dumbledore’s sleeping patterns were quite like hers in many ways: he never got to bed before midnight, and yet every morning before the sun rose he would be awake and well rested nonetheless.
“Minerva…” he said, his little gentlemanly behavior falling away while taking responsibility for he obviously was the least inebriated of them. “I believe that you’ve had enough for tonight. Your head will already be sore in the morn.”
“Well, then why not have some more fun?” she said. “If, as you say now, I’ll be carrying the consequences already, then why should I not make the most of it? I’m not tired yet…” He voice sounded whiney and teasing. “I’m Scottish, Albus. I don’t get intoxicated so easily.”
“I know, my dear,” he said. “However, I’d dare say this is one of the rare occasions you are. Anyone would be with the amount of alcohol consumed by you alone this night.”
“Albus! Please, don’t be like that… You only turn thirty-five once!”
“I’m well aware, but that doesn’t change the fact that you should be capable of teaching tomorrow, as it’ll be a regular school day.”
“I will!” she exclaimed.
His vivid blue eyes connected with her teal green ones. He sighed. “Very well…” Usually they agreed on one glass… This time, he realized, he had just agreed on one entire bottle. He could have facepalmed.
________________________________________
“I must admit I was rather surprised by Cuthbert’s gift to say the least,” Albus said, rising from the couch to walk over to the desk, to which all her gifts had been banished earlier. She said that she would store them well later – likely the day after. He reached for a the red tartan shawl, lifting it from between the other little gifts and holding it up against the light. “It would suit you. I never would have expected this from him.”
“Me neither,” Minerva said, still sitting on the wide couch while sipping from her malt. As Albus turned, him not being entirely sober anymore either, he accidentally hit one little box from the desk, the lid flying off as it landed on the carpet and its content falling onto the carpet with a heavy thud before the lighter box joined it a few inches further.
Minerva’s eyes darted to toward the sound, and she could have sunk through the couch from embarrassment as Albus quietly waved his wand and eyed the metallic handcuffs with a look of surprise and amusement on his face. “Well, well,” he said.
“That’s not mine,” Minerva said, moving upright as well and walking over to where he stood, taking the pair of metallic handcuffs from the air. She blushed as Albus’ vivid blue eyes slid over her in disbelief. “Poppy thought that… I should have more fun.”
“You seem to be capable enough to enjoy yourself,” Albus noted, referring to her rather giggly behavior of earlier. She looked uncannily sober right then as he eyed his former pupil and Transfiguration Professor.
She couldn’t look him in the eye, her blush if possible only deepening. She turned with the handcuffs still in hand. “That kind of fun…” she whispered. “I haven’t… in years.”
“Neither have I,” Albus admitted. “That doesn’t mean that I’m unhappy or incapable of enjoying myself, though.”
Minerva’s inebriated mind saw another meaning in the last couple of words that Albus intended, and she began giggling aloud. Albus merely eyed his former pupil confused until realization downed upon him, too. Oh Merlin… The rest of the bottle would have to wait until another time…
“I’m sorry, Albus,” Minerva spoke as she turned to face him again, doing her best to look and sound serious once more. However, the imbalance typically caused by such amount of alcoholic beverage left her nearly falling, reaching for Albus as he reached for hers. A soft click sounded, and as they both looked down onto the source of the sound as Minerva finally stood steady again, they saw that accidentally the handcuff had closed itself around one of Albus’s wrists. Minerva looked up into his eyes and without fully realizing what in the name she was actually doing, she leaned up onto her toes and kissed him, giving in under that vivid blue glow. He had always truly had beautiful eyes… So penetrating… “Maybe Poppy’s right…” she said. “Maybe I should get laid more often. I, however, fear her little gift has already chosen my participant, too…”
“You’re unsteady on the legs, my dear,” Albus said, noticing her waving on her feet.
“Then take me to my bed, my knight!” she called.
Albus knew he had no choice but to get her to bed, or she would most likely never make it there anymore. Somehow, he never actually left that particular bed until morn, though.
