Post by angharad on Sept 18, 2004 3:22:19 GMT -5
This was written in response to AltraPalantir's "Creative Romance" challenge, which you'll find on the Challenge Board.
Minerva McGonagall was tense. Actually, she was beyond tense. In fact, by the end of the first week of the new term, “ready to spit nails” would have been an uncannily accurate way to describe her mood. Things got off to a bad start when one of the first year students, instead of changing a matchstick into a needle, turned it into a javelin. Luckily no one was punctured, but it was a very near thing. Then there was the Fred & George Weasley Commemorative Swamp, at which several students, no doubt hoping to become the Heirs of Prankdom, left offerings of greenery, turtles, small frogs, and other assorted bog creatures. Of course, it went without saying that products from Weasleys Wizarding Wheezes had become so prevalent that sampling anything, even in the Staffroom, could be hazardous to one’s health. Naturally, the Gryffindor Common Room had become the headquarters of those who would wear the Mantle of Mischief, and Minerva had already had to perform ten reversals (four snarling chairs, three itchy tables, two singing torches, and a partially melted fireplace that led directly to the kitchen). All this on top of her usual duties as Deputy Headmistress, Head of Gryffindor, and Professor of Transfiguration, would have been stressful enough. Add in her work for the Order of the Phoenix, and the result was a woman who was strung so tight that she was ready to snap.
Minerva had already attempted her usual methods of stress reduction, namely taking a long brisk walk followed by a long hot bath. She had even tried placing a silencing charm on her quarters and screaming out her frustration. Unfortunately, as she was now explaining to Headmaster Albus Dumbledore, “the end result is that I’m a tad sore, extremely clean, and slightly hoarse.”
“Perhaps some of the staff…” Albus began.
“Filius suggests that I have a good strong drink or two, Poppy thinks a full body massage would be just the thing , and Rolanda…” here Minerva flushed. “Well, I won’t repeat precisely what she said, but she seems utterly convinced that what I really need is a willing gentleman.”
“And do any of those options appeal to you?” Albus asked with a gentle smile.
“Truthfully?” Albus nodded his encouragement. “All of them,” Minerva replied with a heavy sigh.
“Then you’ve come to the right place,” Albus informed her. Minerva gave him a quizzical look. “You know, of course, that I keep a well-stocked bar in this office.” She nodded. “However,” he continued, “what you might not know is that I am licensed in all forms of massage.”
Minerva shook her head incredulously. “You’re right, I did not know that,” she confirmed. “Yet, somehow, I’m not surprised.” She paused, then wondered, “How on earth did you find the time?”
“I’ve lived many years Minerva,” Albus reminded her. “I have had ample time to study a great many things.”
“I see,” she nodded.
“As for Madam Hooch’s suggestion,” Albus’ manner suddenly became quite diffident, “I am a ‘willing gentleman’, as you put it.”
Minerva stared at him, open-mouthed.
“Of course,” he continued quickly, “I imagine you’d prefer someone much younger, or…”
“Albus,” Minerva interrupted him gently, “surely you’ve heard me mention the fact that I prefer older men?”
“Yes I have,” he replied hesitantly, “but I am very much older…”
“…and have had ample time to study a great many things,” she countered playfully.
Albus chuckled. “Shall I take that to mean that I’ll do?”
“Yes,” she responded coyly, “though I imagine I should reserve judgment until I find out exactly what you’ll …do.”
The next morning, Professor Flitwick, Madam Pomfrey, and Madam Hooch looked up as Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall entered the Great Hall barely in time for the start of breakfast. “Professor McGonagall looks quite relaxed this morning,” Professor Flitwick beamed. “Perhaps she followed my suggestion.”
Madam Pomfrey watched the lady in question for a moment, “She’s carrying herself differently today. I think she must have taken my advice.”
Madam Hooch studied Minerva even longer before concluding, “She may or may not have followed your suggestions, but I’d be willing to wager fifty galleons that she followed mine.”
“Why?” the other two asked.
“Because,” Madam Hooch grinned, “she’s wearing the Headmaster’s twinkle.”
Minerva McGonagall was tense. Actually, she was beyond tense. In fact, by the end of the first week of the new term, “ready to spit nails” would have been an uncannily accurate way to describe her mood. Things got off to a bad start when one of the first year students, instead of changing a matchstick into a needle, turned it into a javelin. Luckily no one was punctured, but it was a very near thing. Then there was the Fred & George Weasley Commemorative Swamp, at which several students, no doubt hoping to become the Heirs of Prankdom, left offerings of greenery, turtles, small frogs, and other assorted bog creatures. Of course, it went without saying that products from Weasleys Wizarding Wheezes had become so prevalent that sampling anything, even in the Staffroom, could be hazardous to one’s health. Naturally, the Gryffindor Common Room had become the headquarters of those who would wear the Mantle of Mischief, and Minerva had already had to perform ten reversals (four snarling chairs, three itchy tables, two singing torches, and a partially melted fireplace that led directly to the kitchen). All this on top of her usual duties as Deputy Headmistress, Head of Gryffindor, and Professor of Transfiguration, would have been stressful enough. Add in her work for the Order of the Phoenix, and the result was a woman who was strung so tight that she was ready to snap.
Minerva had already attempted her usual methods of stress reduction, namely taking a long brisk walk followed by a long hot bath. She had even tried placing a silencing charm on her quarters and screaming out her frustration. Unfortunately, as she was now explaining to Headmaster Albus Dumbledore, “the end result is that I’m a tad sore, extremely clean, and slightly hoarse.”
“Perhaps some of the staff…” Albus began.
“Filius suggests that I have a good strong drink or two, Poppy thinks a full body massage would be just the thing , and Rolanda…” here Minerva flushed. “Well, I won’t repeat precisely what she said, but she seems utterly convinced that what I really need is a willing gentleman.”
“And do any of those options appeal to you?” Albus asked with a gentle smile.
“Truthfully?” Albus nodded his encouragement. “All of them,” Minerva replied with a heavy sigh.
“Then you’ve come to the right place,” Albus informed her. Minerva gave him a quizzical look. “You know, of course, that I keep a well-stocked bar in this office.” She nodded. “However,” he continued, “what you might not know is that I am licensed in all forms of massage.”
Minerva shook her head incredulously. “You’re right, I did not know that,” she confirmed. “Yet, somehow, I’m not surprised.” She paused, then wondered, “How on earth did you find the time?”
“I’ve lived many years Minerva,” Albus reminded her. “I have had ample time to study a great many things.”
“I see,” she nodded.
“As for Madam Hooch’s suggestion,” Albus’ manner suddenly became quite diffident, “I am a ‘willing gentleman’, as you put it.”
Minerva stared at him, open-mouthed.
“Of course,” he continued quickly, “I imagine you’d prefer someone much younger, or…”
“Albus,” Minerva interrupted him gently, “surely you’ve heard me mention the fact that I prefer older men?”
“Yes I have,” he replied hesitantly, “but I am very much older…”
“…and have had ample time to study a great many things,” she countered playfully.
Albus chuckled. “Shall I take that to mean that I’ll do?”
“Yes,” she responded coyly, “though I imagine I should reserve judgment until I find out exactly what you’ll …do.”
The next morning, Professor Flitwick, Madam Pomfrey, and Madam Hooch looked up as Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall entered the Great Hall barely in time for the start of breakfast. “Professor McGonagall looks quite relaxed this morning,” Professor Flitwick beamed. “Perhaps she followed my suggestion.”
Madam Pomfrey watched the lady in question for a moment, “She’s carrying herself differently today. I think she must have taken my advice.”
Madam Hooch studied Minerva even longer before concluding, “She may or may not have followed your suggestions, but I’d be willing to wager fifty galleons that she followed mine.”
“Why?” the other two asked.
“Because,” Madam Hooch grinned, “she’s wearing the Headmaster’s twinkle.”
Very cute and amusing story, well done!
Great story.
Thank you so much for the laugh. That was too funny! Hehehe, I bet Albus was a "willing gentleman." I'm sure he not only was willing, but ready and able as well!
