Post by LinZE on May 19, 2005 7:09:46 GMT -5
A Good Idea
Disclaimer: Anything you recognise isn't mine.
Rating: 11+
Summery: A challenge is issued and accepted. It's concequences are both painful, embarassing and in some cases pleasurable.
It had seemed like a good idea at the time, but then again these things usually did when she was thoroughly wound up. The challenge had been a fair one and she felt she had every chance of winning it, and so, here she was at 46 hours without sleep, or magical assistance to remain awake, ready to kill Albus Dumbledore.
Yesterday, no- the day before yesterday now, had seen the senior staff meeting for a celebratory meal. It had been a long week of discussion and negotiation but finally the timetable for the next year was all but complete. She was struggling to remember now, for some reason or another, what it was that had started the conversation as to who had spent more sleepless nights in the previous year. Severus had pointed out that his Slytherins had an irritating habit of trying to curse each other in the middle of the night. She had countered that, as much as she loved her cubs, that they had an irritating propensity for not only being up when they oughtn’t to be, but also out of the tower, which frequently resulted in her having to hunt them down. They hadn’t been particularly vicious or vehement in their discussion; after all there were more sinister events that kept them up as frequently as their students, just gently chiding and respectful in their acknowledgement that their own students were not perfect. When the others became involved though, it had turned into a question of who could do without the most sleep and then it had begun to get ridiculous; who had said what and what their motivation had been also seemed to have escaped her memory for the time being, but it had divided the sexes and riled her enough to result in stupidity winning the day.
Several hours, and perhaps more importantly, several bottles of the Herbology teacher’s home-brew later, only the stalwart had remained. Pomona, Fillius, Xiomara, Severus, Albus and herself had gathered around the fire and had eventually managed to move off the subject of which gender had the better stamina (a topic which seemed to lend itself to immature jokes from the male members of staff… and Xiomara) but then she had made the cardinal error by yawning and suggesting that it was well past her bed time. Fortunately for Minerva McGonagall, and her sanity, there were only two men who lived in the near vicinity that were capable of getting her worked up the way the Head of Slytherin and the Headmaster did, unfortunately they both jumped on this topic and proceeded to well and truly wind her up. In the end they issued her, and the rest of the female staff, a challenge: a competition of sorts - straightforward with no complications. Males versus females - the last one standing. Never being one to back down, she had accepted without any thought to whether what her colleagues’ opinions on the mater were and had so set the ball in motion. They paired up and agreed to meet for breakfast at eight o’clock the following morning to start the competition. The winning side would of course be the one whose participants managed to stay awake the longest without the aid of magic of any sort what so ever.
At first she had been quite grateful to be automatically paired with Albus, after all the terms of the competition stated that the partners had to remain in one set of rooms for the duration and she would much rather spend the next… well, however long, in the Headmaster’s spacious quarters than Severus’ damp dungeons. Breakfast was much as it was any other day, though the look on Poppy’s face when she heard about what it was they were planning was a picture. Minerva had made especially sure that she and Albus left before she started to have a go at her. The rest of the day had passed pleasantly enough, they had worked through some of the necessary paperwork, had a quiet lunch in Albus’ office before getting on with their own projects in the afternoon. When they had arrived at dinner they had been sat down to a meticulously balanced meal; Poppy had declared that if they were going to be abusing their bodies in this way for no particular reason, then they at least ought to be doing it on proper fuel.
The atmosphere at dinner had been one of quiet anticipation and gentle rivalry, but even by the following morning things had become dramatically tenser. By the 24 hour mark they had cleared Albus’ desk of paperwork, played 4 games of chess and Minerva had read the last 6 back issues of Transfiguration monthly as well as two of Albus’ prized Mills and Boone classics. It seemed much harder to find something to talk about when you were both tired but by midmorning they had rallied again and the cards were out. After Gin Rummy, Go Fish, Scabby Queen and 21s they gave up on the cards and retreated back into their books. They also gave up on the tea and hit the coffee. Minerva was certain that the only reason Albus was still awake was the quantity of sugar he was putting in every cup but if that was true then it was certainly doing the trick as he seemed to be as fresh and bouncy as ever. This was beginning to irritate her greatly. To give Albus his due, he was being very conciliatory. By the time dinner came round at 34 hours, she was tart and short tempered as she would have predicted she was going to be, and yet Albus was being as nice as could be. That meal was tense and uncomfortable and by desert it was plain to see that Fillius was asleep in his chair. One up to the women. And Pomona retired with a smile and a “Good Luck” to her fellows in arms.
Despite what Poppy was trying to convince the world, Minerva knew she was well and truly over the less than pleasant experience at the end of the last term. That said however, it seemed that her body was beginning to side with the other witch. The scarring across her chest was tightening and her back, which had taken the impact when she had hit the compacted ground, had begun to ache again. Deciding that the problem was that she had been sitting still for far too long after the last few days she had made a conscious effort to wander around Albus’ sitting room after dinner. She had contemplated transforming into her feline alter ego but realised that would probably not be a sensible plan on so little sleep.
She’d ‘wandered’ on and off for the last six hours now but it did nothing to ease her discomfort, every time she sat down to try and read though, she found her concentration was almost zero. As the sun rose, she levered herself to the front of her wingback chair by the fire, intending to start her pacing again, but obviously failed to stifle the sharp intake of breath that her uncooperative muscles’ protests resulted in. Albus looked up from where he sat in the opposite seat, and took her in over the top of his half-moon glasses, with those irritatingly twinkly blue eyes, his concern plain to see in his every feature.
“Minerva?” He asked putting his book down and standing.
“I’m fine,” She snapped. “Just a little stiff.”
“If you don’t mind me saying,” He ventured. “You’ve been looking…”
“I’m fine!” She reiterated, as she stood, resting hand on her lower back as she rolled her shoulders in an attempt to ease her discomfort. It seemed that this hadn’t been a good plan however, as she grimaced at the radiating pain that emanated out from several points across her back and the additional pull that it put on the skin across her chest. Albus’ hand was on her elbow and the other resting gently on her back in an instant, the gentle support he was offering reassuring and as she shifted her weight to lean into him, eased her pain somewhat.
“I’m going to call Poppy,” He declared seriously. “I want her to give you the once over before we give you something to make you more comfortable.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” She said between gritted teeth. “Just give me a minute.” She looked up at him hoping that she could convince him. He looked sceptical.
“Minerva, this is stupid. You’re obviously in pain and there’s no point in suffering just for the sake of trivial competition… it was just some stupid tom foolery if I’d thought that you’d…”
“Albus – shut up. Severus will beat Xiomara hands down and I have no intention of letting a few aches and pains get in the way of doing my part.” He sighed and she thought for a moment that he was going to accuse her of being childish and sweep her off her feet and take her to the hospital wing and Poppy, himself. There was certainly a small part of her that wished he’d do just that, but she knew she’d regret it when they lost the bet, because she’d been put under the influence of something or other.
“How about a compromise?” Albus asked after a moment, and she noticed rather surreally that he was rubbing soft circles over the bunched and knotted muscles in her back. She arched an eyebrow to show her interest in his proposal. “Will you at least let me try and help you shake some of that tension?” Her eyebrow shot higher at this. “What I was suggesting,” He continued “was that you let me give you a massage? No foul play I promise.” He said looking innocent as she tried to read his face. It wasn’t totally off the wall, he’d offered before and she’d even accepted once or twice. She was so tempted to accept on this occasion, just because the thought of his hands working their totally un-magical magic was a more than pleasant one. As if to tempt her more he transfigured the coffee table into a massage bed with a flick of his wand. She gazed at it longingly and he obviously took this to be an answer in the affirmative as he as good as picked her up and sat her on it.
Disclaimer: Anything you recognise isn't mine.
Rating: 11+
Summery: A challenge is issued and accepted. It's concequences are both painful, embarassing and in some cases pleasurable.
It had seemed like a good idea at the time, but then again these things usually did when she was thoroughly wound up. The challenge had been a fair one and she felt she had every chance of winning it, and so, here she was at 46 hours without sleep, or magical assistance to remain awake, ready to kill Albus Dumbledore.
Yesterday, no- the day before yesterday now, had seen the senior staff meeting for a celebratory meal. It had been a long week of discussion and negotiation but finally the timetable for the next year was all but complete. She was struggling to remember now, for some reason or another, what it was that had started the conversation as to who had spent more sleepless nights in the previous year. Severus had pointed out that his Slytherins had an irritating habit of trying to curse each other in the middle of the night. She had countered that, as much as she loved her cubs, that they had an irritating propensity for not only being up when they oughtn’t to be, but also out of the tower, which frequently resulted in her having to hunt them down. They hadn’t been particularly vicious or vehement in their discussion; after all there were more sinister events that kept them up as frequently as their students, just gently chiding and respectful in their acknowledgement that their own students were not perfect. When the others became involved though, it had turned into a question of who could do without the most sleep and then it had begun to get ridiculous; who had said what and what their motivation had been also seemed to have escaped her memory for the time being, but it had divided the sexes and riled her enough to result in stupidity winning the day.
Several hours, and perhaps more importantly, several bottles of the Herbology teacher’s home-brew later, only the stalwart had remained. Pomona, Fillius, Xiomara, Severus, Albus and herself had gathered around the fire and had eventually managed to move off the subject of which gender had the better stamina (a topic which seemed to lend itself to immature jokes from the male members of staff… and Xiomara) but then she had made the cardinal error by yawning and suggesting that it was well past her bed time. Fortunately for Minerva McGonagall, and her sanity, there were only two men who lived in the near vicinity that were capable of getting her worked up the way the Head of Slytherin and the Headmaster did, unfortunately they both jumped on this topic and proceeded to well and truly wind her up. In the end they issued her, and the rest of the female staff, a challenge: a competition of sorts - straightforward with no complications. Males versus females - the last one standing. Never being one to back down, she had accepted without any thought to whether what her colleagues’ opinions on the mater were and had so set the ball in motion. They paired up and agreed to meet for breakfast at eight o’clock the following morning to start the competition. The winning side would of course be the one whose participants managed to stay awake the longest without the aid of magic of any sort what so ever.
At first she had been quite grateful to be automatically paired with Albus, after all the terms of the competition stated that the partners had to remain in one set of rooms for the duration and she would much rather spend the next… well, however long, in the Headmaster’s spacious quarters than Severus’ damp dungeons. Breakfast was much as it was any other day, though the look on Poppy’s face when she heard about what it was they were planning was a picture. Minerva had made especially sure that she and Albus left before she started to have a go at her. The rest of the day had passed pleasantly enough, they had worked through some of the necessary paperwork, had a quiet lunch in Albus’ office before getting on with their own projects in the afternoon. When they had arrived at dinner they had been sat down to a meticulously balanced meal; Poppy had declared that if they were going to be abusing their bodies in this way for no particular reason, then they at least ought to be doing it on proper fuel.
The atmosphere at dinner had been one of quiet anticipation and gentle rivalry, but even by the following morning things had become dramatically tenser. By the 24 hour mark they had cleared Albus’ desk of paperwork, played 4 games of chess and Minerva had read the last 6 back issues of Transfiguration monthly as well as two of Albus’ prized Mills and Boone classics. It seemed much harder to find something to talk about when you were both tired but by midmorning they had rallied again and the cards were out. After Gin Rummy, Go Fish, Scabby Queen and 21s they gave up on the cards and retreated back into their books. They also gave up on the tea and hit the coffee. Minerva was certain that the only reason Albus was still awake was the quantity of sugar he was putting in every cup but if that was true then it was certainly doing the trick as he seemed to be as fresh and bouncy as ever. This was beginning to irritate her greatly. To give Albus his due, he was being very conciliatory. By the time dinner came round at 34 hours, she was tart and short tempered as she would have predicted she was going to be, and yet Albus was being as nice as could be. That meal was tense and uncomfortable and by desert it was plain to see that Fillius was asleep in his chair. One up to the women. And Pomona retired with a smile and a “Good Luck” to her fellows in arms.
Despite what Poppy was trying to convince the world, Minerva knew she was well and truly over the less than pleasant experience at the end of the last term. That said however, it seemed that her body was beginning to side with the other witch. The scarring across her chest was tightening and her back, which had taken the impact when she had hit the compacted ground, had begun to ache again. Deciding that the problem was that she had been sitting still for far too long after the last few days she had made a conscious effort to wander around Albus’ sitting room after dinner. She had contemplated transforming into her feline alter ego but realised that would probably not be a sensible plan on so little sleep.
She’d ‘wandered’ on and off for the last six hours now but it did nothing to ease her discomfort, every time she sat down to try and read though, she found her concentration was almost zero. As the sun rose, she levered herself to the front of her wingback chair by the fire, intending to start her pacing again, but obviously failed to stifle the sharp intake of breath that her uncooperative muscles’ protests resulted in. Albus looked up from where he sat in the opposite seat, and took her in over the top of his half-moon glasses, with those irritatingly twinkly blue eyes, his concern plain to see in his every feature.
“Minerva?” He asked putting his book down and standing.
“I’m fine,” She snapped. “Just a little stiff.”
“If you don’t mind me saying,” He ventured. “You’ve been looking…”
“I’m fine!” She reiterated, as she stood, resting hand on her lower back as she rolled her shoulders in an attempt to ease her discomfort. It seemed that this hadn’t been a good plan however, as she grimaced at the radiating pain that emanated out from several points across her back and the additional pull that it put on the skin across her chest. Albus’ hand was on her elbow and the other resting gently on her back in an instant, the gentle support he was offering reassuring and as she shifted her weight to lean into him, eased her pain somewhat.
“I’m going to call Poppy,” He declared seriously. “I want her to give you the once over before we give you something to make you more comfortable.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” She said between gritted teeth. “Just give me a minute.” She looked up at him hoping that she could convince him. He looked sceptical.
“Minerva, this is stupid. You’re obviously in pain and there’s no point in suffering just for the sake of trivial competition… it was just some stupid tom foolery if I’d thought that you’d…”
“Albus – shut up. Severus will beat Xiomara hands down and I have no intention of letting a few aches and pains get in the way of doing my part.” He sighed and she thought for a moment that he was going to accuse her of being childish and sweep her off her feet and take her to the hospital wing and Poppy, himself. There was certainly a small part of her that wished he’d do just that, but she knew she’d regret it when they lost the bet, because she’d been put under the influence of something or other.
“How about a compromise?” Albus asked after a moment, and she noticed rather surreally that he was rubbing soft circles over the bunched and knotted muscles in her back. She arched an eyebrow to show her interest in his proposal. “Will you at least let me try and help you shake some of that tension?” Her eyebrow shot higher at this. “What I was suggesting,” He continued “was that you let me give you a massage? No foul play I promise.” He said looking innocent as she tried to read his face. It wasn’t totally off the wall, he’d offered before and she’d even accepted once or twice. She was so tempted to accept on this occasion, just because the thought of his hands working their totally un-magical magic was a more than pleasant one. As if to tempt her more he transfigured the coffee table into a massage bed with a flick of his wand. She gazed at it longingly and he obviously took this to be an answer in the affirmative as he as good as picked her up and sat her on it.
