Post by Dewey on Oct 14, 2004 21:20:34 GMT -5
Yay! This challange was too good to resist, so I decided to write a response. I hope everyone enjoys it.
Thank you, J.K., for letting me borrow your marvelous characters.
And I give you,
Love's Drunk
By: Dewey
___________________________________________
Minerva McGonagall was never known to be a person to be reckoned with on matters of personal affair. To Alastor Moody, she was a determined professor with a need to prove herself. To Xiomara Hooch, she was a tough, ill-tempered no-fun-at-all ’ole broad. But to Albus Dumbledore, she was, and would never cease to be, a uniquely sensitive woman.
Our story begins as love turns to a misconception, which then revolves to confusion, and then again to love. For Minerva McGonagall was no goddess, as her name would suggest. Minerva McGonagall was nothing more than a mortal fool. . . . .
Her report was due at dawn and she still hadn’t the slightest idea where to begin. Her brain was aching and she was reminded with the fact that she hadn’t slept in 72 hours. She brushed the loose hair from her sweaty brow and relented from sighing. All she needed at the moment was an interruption. . . and there it was!
Poppy Pomfrey and Albus Dumbledore fell passed the slightly ajared door into her office, giggling like mad. “S-sorry, Min. Albus just told me the funniest joke!” exclaimed Pomfrey. She sounded more than a bit soused, but it was always hard to tell with Poppy.
“Yes, well I seem to have had some help telling it.” At least he sounded sober. And was he flirting with her?!
Minerva was more than slightly revolted at the disruption, but she’d soon forget that. The fondness they were showing for one another before her was a separate tale, however. They were acting like a couple of teenagers, for god’s sake!
“To what do I owe this surprise?” McGonagall asked crisply.
“Oh, don’t get your panties in a bunch, Min!” commanded Poppy fiercely. “We just came to see if you’d like to get a drink at the Hog’s Head.”
“Well, I wouldn’t. I’m up to my ears in work.”
“Come on Minerva.” Her heart lurched. “Have a drink. It couldn’t hurt.”
“In this instance, Albus, it might,” commented Minerva. “. . . and stop with the ‘Min’ thing!”
“Lighten up, you ‘ole spinster, you! Maybe while we’re there, we can find you a husband,” said Poppy enthusiastically.
I was about to counter when Albus beat me to it. “That my dear,” he lifted Poppy’s hand and looked her over sensuously, “is an excellent idea.” He place a chaste kiss on the back of her hand before dropping it to her side gently.
“I’ve really got to finish this report for the Order,” interrupted Minerva, drawing back their attention.
“Alright,” answered Poppy, fixing a dreamy gaze at Albus, which he gladly returned.
“I s’pose we’ll just be off then,” said Albus, taking Poppy’s hand in his. “’Night.”
“’Night,” said Poppy, and they walked out of her office, wholly and absolutely sober, snogging as if no one were watching.
She heard them, though, when they got into the corridor. “Headmaster, I believe it worked” and “You really think so?” Oh yes, she heard them.
She suddenly had an idea for her Order report. Quill in hand, she began to write furiously on the parchment before her. Sentence after sentence came pouring out in black ink.
Minute after minute passed. Ideas flooded out onto paper as minutes became hours and sentences became paragraphs. Finally, at three minutes to four in the a.m., she had completed the report; now to turn it in.
Minerva folded the parchment up and slipped it into an envelope, stamping it with the Hogwarts emblem. She quickly put the used materials back in their rightful place and stood.
‘Now, is someone doesn’t appreciate this,’ she thought to herself, ‘I’ll be damned!’
************
The only person she could find at Headquarters that morning happened to be just the person she was looking for. For, Alastor Moody was already awake, sipping on his flask. No doubt drinking his specially made Irish Crème, as she so remembered he doing when courting her those many decades ago.
Alastor?, she had asked. He replied suspiciously, What are you doing here this early? Or as you used to call it: late?. She only shook her head, You still know me too well for your own good. . . and that may help me with what I’m going to do.
Their conversation lasted late into the morning till Minerva finally decided to head back to Hogwarts, thanking the gods it was summer break.
*********
Approaching the stone gargoyle, she uttered the password, (“Man on fire”), and stepped upon the spiraling staircase. The ascent seemed to last forever to her. A never-ending roller coaster bounding onto an endless stage of torment. But Albus took it nicely!
He nodded understandingly with every fact and detail she told him, and even agreed knowingly on some occasions. He made inferences of the lucky guy and even got so bold as to make suggestions of superb restaurants.
Rage enveloped her wholly and so came, “Albus, you idiot! I hate you!” she shouted it loudly enough so that the portraits of past Headmasters and Headmistresses could hear very clearly. “I-” But she was quieted as he pressed his lips against hers. At first she hadn’t known what hit her, but when finally she allowed her emotions to overcome her, she kissed him back.
Breaking the kiss, staring straight into her glowering green eyes, he told her, “And I hate you equally as well.”
Thank you, J.K., for letting me borrow your marvelous characters.
And I give you,
Love's Drunk
By: Dewey
___________________________________________
Minerva McGonagall was never known to be a person to be reckoned with on matters of personal affair. To Alastor Moody, she was a determined professor with a need to prove herself. To Xiomara Hooch, she was a tough, ill-tempered no-fun-at-all ’ole broad. But to Albus Dumbledore, she was, and would never cease to be, a uniquely sensitive woman.
Our story begins as love turns to a misconception, which then revolves to confusion, and then again to love. For Minerva McGonagall was no goddess, as her name would suggest. Minerva McGonagall was nothing more than a mortal fool. . . . .
Her report was due at dawn and she still hadn’t the slightest idea where to begin. Her brain was aching and she was reminded with the fact that she hadn’t slept in 72 hours. She brushed the loose hair from her sweaty brow and relented from sighing. All she needed at the moment was an interruption. . . and there it was!
Poppy Pomfrey and Albus Dumbledore fell passed the slightly ajared door into her office, giggling like mad. “S-sorry, Min. Albus just told me the funniest joke!” exclaimed Pomfrey. She sounded more than a bit soused, but it was always hard to tell with Poppy.
“Yes, well I seem to have had some help telling it.” At least he sounded sober. And was he flirting with her?!
Minerva was more than slightly revolted at the disruption, but she’d soon forget that. The fondness they were showing for one another before her was a separate tale, however. They were acting like a couple of teenagers, for god’s sake!
“To what do I owe this surprise?” McGonagall asked crisply.
“Oh, don’t get your panties in a bunch, Min!” commanded Poppy fiercely. “We just came to see if you’d like to get a drink at the Hog’s Head.”
“Well, I wouldn’t. I’m up to my ears in work.”
“Come on Minerva.” Her heart lurched. “Have a drink. It couldn’t hurt.”
“In this instance, Albus, it might,” commented Minerva. “. . . and stop with the ‘Min’ thing!”
“Lighten up, you ‘ole spinster, you! Maybe while we’re there, we can find you a husband,” said Poppy enthusiastically.
I was about to counter when Albus beat me to it. “That my dear,” he lifted Poppy’s hand and looked her over sensuously, “is an excellent idea.” He place a chaste kiss on the back of her hand before dropping it to her side gently.
“I’ve really got to finish this report for the Order,” interrupted Minerva, drawing back their attention.
“Alright,” answered Poppy, fixing a dreamy gaze at Albus, which he gladly returned.
“I s’pose we’ll just be off then,” said Albus, taking Poppy’s hand in his. “’Night.”
“’Night,” said Poppy, and they walked out of her office, wholly and absolutely sober, snogging as if no one were watching.
She heard them, though, when they got into the corridor. “Headmaster, I believe it worked” and “You really think so?” Oh yes, she heard them.
She suddenly had an idea for her Order report. Quill in hand, she began to write furiously on the parchment before her. Sentence after sentence came pouring out in black ink.
Minute after minute passed. Ideas flooded out onto paper as minutes became hours and sentences became paragraphs. Finally, at three minutes to four in the a.m., she had completed the report; now to turn it in.
Minerva folded the parchment up and slipped it into an envelope, stamping it with the Hogwarts emblem. She quickly put the used materials back in their rightful place and stood.
‘Now, is someone doesn’t appreciate this,’ she thought to herself, ‘I’ll be damned!’
************
The only person she could find at Headquarters that morning happened to be just the person she was looking for. For, Alastor Moody was already awake, sipping on his flask. No doubt drinking his specially made Irish Crème, as she so remembered he doing when courting her those many decades ago.
Alastor?, she had asked. He replied suspiciously, What are you doing here this early? Or as you used to call it: late?. She only shook her head, You still know me too well for your own good. . . and that may help me with what I’m going to do.
Their conversation lasted late into the morning till Minerva finally decided to head back to Hogwarts, thanking the gods it was summer break.
*********
Approaching the stone gargoyle, she uttered the password, (“Man on fire”), and stepped upon the spiraling staircase. The ascent seemed to last forever to her. A never-ending roller coaster bounding onto an endless stage of torment. But Albus took it nicely!
He nodded understandingly with every fact and detail she told him, and even agreed knowingly on some occasions. He made inferences of the lucky guy and even got so bold as to make suggestions of superb restaurants.
Rage enveloped her wholly and so came, “Albus, you idiot! I hate you!” she shouted it loudly enough so that the portraits of past Headmasters and Headmistresses could hear very clearly. “I-” But she was quieted as he pressed his lips against hers. At first she hadn’t known what hit her, but when finally she allowed her emotions to overcome her, she kissed him back.
Breaking the kiss, staring straight into her glowering green eyes, he told her, “And I hate you equally as well.”
*grin* great challenge response!
