Post by Asphodel on Aug 21, 2007 13:03:05 GMT -5
Honestly, I spend longer trying to think up decent titles than I do writing stories. Alas. 
-------
There had been no activity from Voldemort, blatant or otherwise, in over a week. For their part, the two people sitting at the kitchen table in Grimmauld place couldn’t have been happier. Granted, the place was positively packed with Weasley children, with a Granger and a Potter thrown in for good measure, but they were surprisingly quiet, and having been teachers for over half a century combined, neither Minerva McGonagall nor Albus Dumbledore could find much to complain about.
Except perhaps that Tonks seemed hell-bent on breaking every glass in the kitchen. Twice. In one day.
Minerva, cupping a mug of tea between her palms, looked over at the man beside her. “Are you staying for dinner?“ She asked quietly, her words masked by another loud crash! followed by a heartfelt "Damn!" from one Nymphadora Tonks.
Albus smiled at her question, both of them steadfastly ignoring the kitchen door being flung open, and a very harried Molly Weasley hurrying inside, with an exasperated sigh of "not again." as she eyed the shattered mess on the floor. “I was planning on it, yes. Then I was thinking I could perhaps coax Harry into a game of chess. Had you other plans?”
Taking a sip of her tea, Minerva shook her head with a contented expression. (“Evanesco! Tonks, why don‘t you and I go to the third landing and tackle cleaning out that temperamental cupboard, yes? I think there might be a boggart in it that I could use your help with.”) “I was only hoping to have you at the table for company this evening.”
The old wizard’s eyes took on a wicked glint. “Only at the table?”
A smile hinting at the corners of her normally stern expression, she only made a low hum in response, turning her gaze back to her tea. He grinned. (“Right, Molly. Sorry ‘bout the mess…again.”)
The professors sat together in comfortable quiet as Molly bustled a rather sheepish young auror out of the kitchen, leaving the two quite alone. The minute the door shut behind them, Minerva let out a long sigh that cut through the sudden silence. “Listen to that!”
Albus chuckled at her in answer, because he didn’t hear anything at all, and he knew that was exactly what she meant. Her suddenly blissful expression was explanation enough. “Nothing like a little peace and quiet these days, is there, Minerva?”
The witch’s expression suddenly turned pensive, and she set her mug down with a gentle thunk against the oak table. “’These days’, Albus, I’d merely settle for some peace.”
Albus’s warm, large hand slid over to cover her slender one, both appendages pale in the dim yellow lighting of the kitchen. “None of that, Minerva. This place is maudlin enough without such thoughts, wouldn’t you say?”
She gave him a rather rueful smile, her brogue slipping out prominently as she answered with a soft, “Aye.”
“And besides,” He went on, his tone light, “At the moment, it would seem we have both, wouldn’t it? If I am thinking correctly,” he ignored her rather sharp look as his hand began to slide up hers, slipping under the edge of her sleeve. “The children are all upstairs occupied with a rather rousing game of Exploding Snap.” His strong, agile fingers began dancing lightly over the sensitive skin on the inside of her arm. “Remus is having a lie in to recover himself from last night’s full moon.” His thumb brushed a slow, sweeping arc along the inside of her elbow. “Arthur’s at the office.” Minerva bit her lip. “And from the sounds of it, Molly will keep Nymphadora occupied for several hours at least. Which,” He murmured, rising from his seat to stand behind her, leaning down until he was speaking directly into her ear, his warm breath ghosting over her skin with every word. “Leaves us suddenly very much alone, doesn’t it?”
He pulled back a little, just enough to see the disapproving scowl on her face. Just enough to see her slight frame quiver at the sudden shiver that ran down her spine. “Well,” was all she said, sounding rather breathless, tilting her head to look at him, askance.
He gazed at her, his eyes suddenly full of dark promise as he leaned in to her ear again, to whisper, “My thoughts exactly,” Before his teeth latched onto the tender lobe with a gentle nip that made the woman before him let out a strangled gasp.
“This is not a terribly good idea, Albus,” She muttered vaguely, as his tongue darted out to trace a hot, wet path along the delicate shell of her ear. Then there was no more time for speaking, as she turned her head, tilted her mouth up awkwardly, and met his lips in a heated kiss.
Her lips were hot silk as they slid against his, a feeling he had become addicted from the very first, all those years ago, and one he knew he would never get enough of. With a muffled groan into her mouth, he grabbed her waist, lifting her with a spin until she too was suddenly standing, her body crushed against his. Startled, Minerva‘s lips parted, only to have the moan pulled out of her by Albus’s lithe tongue as it dove into the warm crevice of her mouth. Her hands flew up to his shoulders, clinging to him desperately as their tongues began a furious duel for dominance.
A sharp taste of citrus and a vaguely smoky flavor that reminded her of softly spoken vows, winter evenings, warm fires, and loving glances and that was absolutely Albus, assaulted Minerva’s senses as she nipped at his bottom lip, her fingers clutching even tighter at his shoulders as the tingling heat inside her spread, demanding more, more, closer, and she pressed herself sharply against him, dizzy with the sudden surge of fierce desire.
Albus threw his head back helplessly at the movement, a strangled utterance of her name leaving his lips in a groan. She gasped in answer as his teeth found her jaw line, sharp nips all along her fine, porcelain skin. They were going to have to take this somewhere else, and soon, one of them thought, or both of them thought, or nobody thought at all as their mouths melded together again in another fierce kiss, their love and desire building as a fire in their bodies. Nothing was more perfect than this: this raw moment in time when nothing but the desperate, pulsing call of their bodies rose up, and their flesh met in searing, passionate embraces, tongues dueling, time stopping--
“Bloody hell!”
Well, nothing that perfect could last long, after all.
------
As had become the norm, at three o'clock that afternoon, Ron suddenly became absolutely starving, and everything had to stop until he got some food in his desperately empty stomach, or he might simply waste away from lack of nourishment. At least, that‘s what he’d said, every day, for the past two weeks.
Another bizarre thing that happened every afternoon at three o’clock was that Ron somehow lost his ability to do things for himself. Such as getting said food. Hermione and Ginny had positively refused to get the "lazy, sodding, good for nothing Git-” (Ginny’s words) so much as a cup of sugar, though they had no problem having a snack as well if anyone fixed anything. Inevitably, this left the ‘getting’ to Harry, who really didn’t mind very much anyway, since they always came down soon after him, and he was the only one who was more likely to make food than destroy it. And so, when the clock down the hall chimed three, he rose from the game of Exploding Snap without complaint and bounded down the stairs of Grimmauld place a few moments ahead of the others.
All things considered, Harry was very glad to be back in his Godfather's old house. While he missed Sirius terribly, anything was better than the Dursleys, and it was nice to be back with his friends again. And Dumbledore had been around a lot, and had been making a concerted effort to repair their mangled relationship. Which, after all, Harry thought as he pushed open the door to the kitchen, was a very large-- "Bloody hell!”
Looking in on the scene before him, he really couldn’t think of anything else to say.
At his voice, Albus Dumbledore and Minerva McGonagall jerked away from one another with tremendous force, separating from what, as far as Harry could tell, had been a very serious and passionate kiss. They both stared at Harry with the same shocked look he was giving them, though Professor McGonagall looked more horrified than anything. Which, truth be told, was rather more alarming than normal, taking in her flushed complexion, her swollen lips, and the black strands of flyaway hair that were sweeping wildly about her face, having fallen out of her bun. Dumbledore, for his part, his glasses wildly askew on his long, crooked nose, and his beard swept hap-hazardly over his shoulder, managed to finally collect himself enough (his hands still dangerously low on Professor McGonagall's back) to speak. "Well...Hello there, Harry."
Harry himself was too distracted by the lipstick smeared on Professor Dumbledore's cheek to think up a proper reply, and managed only to get out a very vague, "Er..."
The three members of the kitchen stared at one another for a long, frozen moment, each trying to think of a way to pretend none of this had ever happened. It was an idea that got considerably more complicated when a sudden thunder of footsteps on the stairs indicated that Hermione, Ginny, and Ron were about to make an entrance on the stunning scene.
Upon hearing the noise, Harry watched as Professor Mcgonagall's mouth dropped into a perfectly round "oh" of horror, and Dumbledore's entire face went rather slack with what the younger wizard could only assume was panic. Seeing the disaster in wait, Harry did what he did best: he thought fast, and moved faster.
His face morphing into an irritated scowl, he threw his arms in the air, and said "All right, all right!" Very loudly, before whirling back around to the kitchen door, and stalking towards it with noisy stomps. He flung the door open, with a huff, revealing the concerned faces of his friends several feet away. Stepping out quickly, he leaned back into the kitchen, sighed noisily, and said "Yes, Headmaster," in an exasperated tone before flashing a grin at the stunned couple, and disappearing back out into the hall with his friends.
Hermione, Ron, and Ginny were all watching him with frowns when he turned back to them, scowling deeply once more. “What's the matter, mate?" Ron asked him, his tone anxious. His stomach grumbled loudly as he spoke.
"Some stupid surprise Order meeting," Harry muttered, not having to work very hard to sound sulky. "We can't go in."
"Aw, bloody hell!" Ron groused, groaning. "Can't they even wait a minute for us to grab some food?"
Harry shoved his hands into his pockets, and snorted. "Apparently not. Professor Dumbledore's in a right snit because I interrupted." The thought very nearly made him laugh, and he quickly bit the inside of his lip.
Misinterpreting the movement, Ginny put a gentle hand on his arm. “I know you and the headmaster have been getting closer, Harry. I’m sure he was just distracted.” Harry smiled at her in return, biting down harder. Ginny had no idea just how true that was.
Hermione, ever the thinker, was looking troubled. "A surprise meeting? I hope nothing's happened. Do you suppose there‘s been an attack?"
"It all sounded like political gobledy-gook to me," Harry sighed, shaking his head. “All boring and pointless. But, of course, we still can’t go in.”
"But I'm hungry," Ron wailed. Ginny and Hermione threw him dirty looks.
"Honestly, Ron,” Hermione said, exasperation all over her features. “Sometimes I wonder if, instead of a brain, you’ve an extra stomach instead.” Said extra stomach gurgled loudly again, and Ginny snickered, even as Hermione threw her hands up into the air in a hopeless gesture.
Harry knew he needed to get them away from the door, and from all the thoughts of the kitchen. "Come on, I've got some chocolate frogs up in my trunk, and then we can play some more Exploding Snap-- Dumbledore told me they're putting imperturbable charms over every inch of the room, so don't even bother trying to listen in."
"Bullocks," Ginny said, looking frustrated. "We never know what goes on in there!"
Harry wondered how long it would be until he made his lip bleed from trying not to laugh. "No, Gin, we really don't. Come on." And he led them all back upstairs, far, far away from the kitchen and the trysting couple within.
----
So, now for some audience response, yes? There's actually more written after this, but I'm not entirely sure it should be posted, as I already have a hard time with what I've just posted feeling a bit "all over the place." Does this feel like an ending to a little oneshot to you, or shall I post the rest?
-------
There had been no activity from Voldemort, blatant or otherwise, in over a week. For their part, the two people sitting at the kitchen table in Grimmauld place couldn’t have been happier. Granted, the place was positively packed with Weasley children, with a Granger and a Potter thrown in for good measure, but they were surprisingly quiet, and having been teachers for over half a century combined, neither Minerva McGonagall nor Albus Dumbledore could find much to complain about.
Except perhaps that Tonks seemed hell-bent on breaking every glass in the kitchen. Twice. In one day.
Minerva, cupping a mug of tea between her palms, looked over at the man beside her. “Are you staying for dinner?“ She asked quietly, her words masked by another loud crash! followed by a heartfelt "Damn!" from one Nymphadora Tonks.
Albus smiled at her question, both of them steadfastly ignoring the kitchen door being flung open, and a very harried Molly Weasley hurrying inside, with an exasperated sigh of "not again." as she eyed the shattered mess on the floor. “I was planning on it, yes. Then I was thinking I could perhaps coax Harry into a game of chess. Had you other plans?”
Taking a sip of her tea, Minerva shook her head with a contented expression. (“Evanesco! Tonks, why don‘t you and I go to the third landing and tackle cleaning out that temperamental cupboard, yes? I think there might be a boggart in it that I could use your help with.”) “I was only hoping to have you at the table for company this evening.”
The old wizard’s eyes took on a wicked glint. “Only at the table?”
A smile hinting at the corners of her normally stern expression, she only made a low hum in response, turning her gaze back to her tea. He grinned. (“Right, Molly. Sorry ‘bout the mess…again.”)
The professors sat together in comfortable quiet as Molly bustled a rather sheepish young auror out of the kitchen, leaving the two quite alone. The minute the door shut behind them, Minerva let out a long sigh that cut through the sudden silence. “Listen to that!”
Albus chuckled at her in answer, because he didn’t hear anything at all, and he knew that was exactly what she meant. Her suddenly blissful expression was explanation enough. “Nothing like a little peace and quiet these days, is there, Minerva?”
The witch’s expression suddenly turned pensive, and she set her mug down with a gentle thunk against the oak table. “’These days’, Albus, I’d merely settle for some peace.”
Albus’s warm, large hand slid over to cover her slender one, both appendages pale in the dim yellow lighting of the kitchen. “None of that, Minerva. This place is maudlin enough without such thoughts, wouldn’t you say?”
She gave him a rather rueful smile, her brogue slipping out prominently as she answered with a soft, “Aye.”
“And besides,” He went on, his tone light, “At the moment, it would seem we have both, wouldn’t it? If I am thinking correctly,” he ignored her rather sharp look as his hand began to slide up hers, slipping under the edge of her sleeve. “The children are all upstairs occupied with a rather rousing game of Exploding Snap.” His strong, agile fingers began dancing lightly over the sensitive skin on the inside of her arm. “Remus is having a lie in to recover himself from last night’s full moon.” His thumb brushed a slow, sweeping arc along the inside of her elbow. “Arthur’s at the office.” Minerva bit her lip. “And from the sounds of it, Molly will keep Nymphadora occupied for several hours at least. Which,” He murmured, rising from his seat to stand behind her, leaning down until he was speaking directly into her ear, his warm breath ghosting over her skin with every word. “Leaves us suddenly very much alone, doesn’t it?”
He pulled back a little, just enough to see the disapproving scowl on her face. Just enough to see her slight frame quiver at the sudden shiver that ran down her spine. “Well,” was all she said, sounding rather breathless, tilting her head to look at him, askance.
He gazed at her, his eyes suddenly full of dark promise as he leaned in to her ear again, to whisper, “My thoughts exactly,” Before his teeth latched onto the tender lobe with a gentle nip that made the woman before him let out a strangled gasp.
“This is not a terribly good idea, Albus,” She muttered vaguely, as his tongue darted out to trace a hot, wet path along the delicate shell of her ear. Then there was no more time for speaking, as she turned her head, tilted her mouth up awkwardly, and met his lips in a heated kiss.
Her lips were hot silk as they slid against his, a feeling he had become addicted from the very first, all those years ago, and one he knew he would never get enough of. With a muffled groan into her mouth, he grabbed her waist, lifting her with a spin until she too was suddenly standing, her body crushed against his. Startled, Minerva‘s lips parted, only to have the moan pulled out of her by Albus’s lithe tongue as it dove into the warm crevice of her mouth. Her hands flew up to his shoulders, clinging to him desperately as their tongues began a furious duel for dominance.
A sharp taste of citrus and a vaguely smoky flavor that reminded her of softly spoken vows, winter evenings, warm fires, and loving glances and that was absolutely Albus, assaulted Minerva’s senses as she nipped at his bottom lip, her fingers clutching even tighter at his shoulders as the tingling heat inside her spread, demanding more, more, closer, and she pressed herself sharply against him, dizzy with the sudden surge of fierce desire.
Albus threw his head back helplessly at the movement, a strangled utterance of her name leaving his lips in a groan. She gasped in answer as his teeth found her jaw line, sharp nips all along her fine, porcelain skin. They were going to have to take this somewhere else, and soon, one of them thought, or both of them thought, or nobody thought at all as their mouths melded together again in another fierce kiss, their love and desire building as a fire in their bodies. Nothing was more perfect than this: this raw moment in time when nothing but the desperate, pulsing call of their bodies rose up, and their flesh met in searing, passionate embraces, tongues dueling, time stopping--
“Bloody hell!”
Well, nothing that perfect could last long, after all.
------
As had become the norm, at three o'clock that afternoon, Ron suddenly became absolutely starving, and everything had to stop until he got some food in his desperately empty stomach, or he might simply waste away from lack of nourishment. At least, that‘s what he’d said, every day, for the past two weeks.
Another bizarre thing that happened every afternoon at three o’clock was that Ron somehow lost his ability to do things for himself. Such as getting said food. Hermione and Ginny had positively refused to get the "lazy, sodding, good for nothing Git-” (Ginny’s words) so much as a cup of sugar, though they had no problem having a snack as well if anyone fixed anything. Inevitably, this left the ‘getting’ to Harry, who really didn’t mind very much anyway, since they always came down soon after him, and he was the only one who was more likely to make food than destroy it. And so, when the clock down the hall chimed three, he rose from the game of Exploding Snap without complaint and bounded down the stairs of Grimmauld place a few moments ahead of the others.
All things considered, Harry was very glad to be back in his Godfather's old house. While he missed Sirius terribly, anything was better than the Dursleys, and it was nice to be back with his friends again. And Dumbledore had been around a lot, and had been making a concerted effort to repair their mangled relationship. Which, after all, Harry thought as he pushed open the door to the kitchen, was a very large-- "Bloody hell!”
Looking in on the scene before him, he really couldn’t think of anything else to say.
At his voice, Albus Dumbledore and Minerva McGonagall jerked away from one another with tremendous force, separating from what, as far as Harry could tell, had been a very serious and passionate kiss. They both stared at Harry with the same shocked look he was giving them, though Professor McGonagall looked more horrified than anything. Which, truth be told, was rather more alarming than normal, taking in her flushed complexion, her swollen lips, and the black strands of flyaway hair that were sweeping wildly about her face, having fallen out of her bun. Dumbledore, for his part, his glasses wildly askew on his long, crooked nose, and his beard swept hap-hazardly over his shoulder, managed to finally collect himself enough (his hands still dangerously low on Professor McGonagall's back) to speak. "Well...Hello there, Harry."
Harry himself was too distracted by the lipstick smeared on Professor Dumbledore's cheek to think up a proper reply, and managed only to get out a very vague, "Er..."
The three members of the kitchen stared at one another for a long, frozen moment, each trying to think of a way to pretend none of this had ever happened. It was an idea that got considerably more complicated when a sudden thunder of footsteps on the stairs indicated that Hermione, Ginny, and Ron were about to make an entrance on the stunning scene.
Upon hearing the noise, Harry watched as Professor Mcgonagall's mouth dropped into a perfectly round "oh" of horror, and Dumbledore's entire face went rather slack with what the younger wizard could only assume was panic. Seeing the disaster in wait, Harry did what he did best: he thought fast, and moved faster.
His face morphing into an irritated scowl, he threw his arms in the air, and said "All right, all right!" Very loudly, before whirling back around to the kitchen door, and stalking towards it with noisy stomps. He flung the door open, with a huff, revealing the concerned faces of his friends several feet away. Stepping out quickly, he leaned back into the kitchen, sighed noisily, and said "Yes, Headmaster," in an exasperated tone before flashing a grin at the stunned couple, and disappearing back out into the hall with his friends.
Hermione, Ron, and Ginny were all watching him with frowns when he turned back to them, scowling deeply once more. “What's the matter, mate?" Ron asked him, his tone anxious. His stomach grumbled loudly as he spoke.
"Some stupid surprise Order meeting," Harry muttered, not having to work very hard to sound sulky. "We can't go in."
"Aw, bloody hell!" Ron groused, groaning. "Can't they even wait a minute for us to grab some food?"
Harry shoved his hands into his pockets, and snorted. "Apparently not. Professor Dumbledore's in a right snit because I interrupted." The thought very nearly made him laugh, and he quickly bit the inside of his lip.
Misinterpreting the movement, Ginny put a gentle hand on his arm. “I know you and the headmaster have been getting closer, Harry. I’m sure he was just distracted.” Harry smiled at her in return, biting down harder. Ginny had no idea just how true that was.
Hermione, ever the thinker, was looking troubled. "A surprise meeting? I hope nothing's happened. Do you suppose there‘s been an attack?"
"It all sounded like political gobledy-gook to me," Harry sighed, shaking his head. “All boring and pointless. But, of course, we still can’t go in.”
"But I'm hungry," Ron wailed. Ginny and Hermione threw him dirty looks.
"Honestly, Ron,” Hermione said, exasperation all over her features. “Sometimes I wonder if, instead of a brain, you’ve an extra stomach instead.” Said extra stomach gurgled loudly again, and Ginny snickered, even as Hermione threw her hands up into the air in a hopeless gesture.
Harry knew he needed to get them away from the door, and from all the thoughts of the kitchen. "Come on, I've got some chocolate frogs up in my trunk, and then we can play some more Exploding Snap-- Dumbledore told me they're putting imperturbable charms over every inch of the room, so don't even bother trying to listen in."
"Bullocks," Ginny said, looking frustrated. "We never know what goes on in there!"
Harry wondered how long it would be until he made his lip bleed from trying not to laugh. "No, Gin, we really don't. Come on." And he led them all back upstairs, far, far away from the kitchen and the trysting couple within.
----
So, now for some audience response, yes? There's actually more written after this, but I'm not entirely sure it should be posted, as I already have a hard time with what I've just posted feeling a bit "all over the place." Does this feel like an ending to a little oneshot to you, or shall I post the rest?
x
*smiles hopefully*
