Post by ginger newts on Aug 29, 2005 13:43:27 GMT -5
Challenge 40 – Girls’ Night In
Summary: Minerva and her friends have a little too much to drink.
Rating: 13+
A/N: I took a few liberties with some of the lines in the challenge, hope that’s okay. This certainly isn’t my best work, but this isn’t my kind of story. It was written by request and I hope at least satisfies the person for whom it is written.
Minerva McGonagall poured another round of strawberry margaritas for herself and her three friends, levitating the glasses to their respective drinkers before retaking her seat in an armchair near the fire.
“I wish Albus would come home from the Hog’s Head. I don’t like him being there so late,” she said.
“Well we’re glad he’s out late,” Roland Hooch argued. “If he came home we’d have to leave and I’m not in the mood to make this an early night.”
“You could always continue the party somewhere else, you know,” Minerva pointed out.
“Without you, dear? Never!” exclaimed a tipsy Pomona Sprout.
Minerva rolled her eyes and turned her attention back to her drink just as there was a knock at the door. She pulled herself out of the chair, only just beginning to realize the effect that four drinks had made on her senses, and opened the door to find one of the last people she ever would have expected.
“Augusta!” Minerva exclaimed. “What on Earth are you doing here?”
“I’m sorry, Minerva, I know it’s late. I was looking for Poppy and heard she might be here. Do you mind?” The other woman didn’t even wait for an answer before pushing past Minerva and into the room. “There you are, Poppy. Could I have a word?”
The school nurse excused herself and followed Augusta Longbottom to the other side of the room, away from her friends. They engaged in a low voiced conversation for a few minutes and then Poppy made excuses for both of them and ushered the slightly older witch out of the room.
She came back alone inside fifteen minutes and explained to the others. “Ever since Frank and Alice were attacked Augusta has been having trouble sleeping. I know she should see a Healer at St. Mungo’s, but I’ve been slipping her small amounts of dreamless sleep potion. Going to the hospital now is too difficult for the poor woman.”
For a long moment, there was a respectful silence in the room as the four witches thought about the not so very distant events that had taken so much from so many lives. The silence was broken when Pomona, who had finished her fourth drink and started on the fifth during Poppy’s absence, upset her chair and fell to the floor.
“I’m okay,” she said, rather too loudly, as she picked herself up with an effort and righted the chair.
Her accident, however, had broken the somber mood as her friends laughed and Poppy took her glass away.
“I think you’ve had quite enough,” the medi-witch chided.
“Oh, just let me finish that one. It’s so good,” Pomona wheedled.
“Remember what happened last time? You were so sick I thought we’d have to take you to the hospital.”
“I wasn’t that sick.”
“Yes, you were,” Minerva interposed sternly. “I think Poppy’s right. Actually, we’ve probably all had more than enough.” As if to prove her point, the deputy headmistress very uncharacteristically hiccoughed as she set her glass down with a wobbly hand.
Rolanda, however, had other plans. “Oh no you don’t, Minerva. You haven’t had enough until you start telling us all the things you never meant to tell us.”
“Such as?” Minerva asked, giving her friend a warning look.
“Well,” Rolanda said with exaggerated innocence, “I believe the last time we all got drunk you said something to the effect of we’d never believe what Albus can do with his tongue. Then,” she carried on, despite Poppy’s warning tug to her sleeve, “you passed out before you could answer my question as to whether his beard gets in the way.”
“I never said any such thing,” Minerva protested, “and I’m not going to dignify that question with a response.”
Rolanda poured yet another drink for herself and quietly moved Minerva’s now filled glass closer to her arm in such a way that she would be sure to pick it up and absent mindedly drink more. Then, she abruptly changed the topic of conversation hoping to lull Minerva into a false sense of security and then once more spring her questions regarding the headmaster. It wasn’t that she had any personal interest in Albus Dumbledore, but Minerva was so closed mouthed about anything personal that the flying instructor had made it her goal in life to find out as many incriminating things as she could.
“Do you hear something?” Minerva asked a few minutes later.
The other three shook their heads, but grew quiet trying to listen. After a few moments, they were able to make out what Minerva’s cat-like sense of hearing had picked up on even through the din of their chatter. It sounded like a masculine voice trying to guess the password into her rooms.
“I suppose that’s Albus and now the party is over,” Pomona complained.
“It doesn’t sound like Albus,” Minerva answered. “Besides, he knows my password.”
She got up and quickly and silently crossed to the door, flinging it open to reveal a very sheepish looking Care of Magical Creatures professor.
“Ah, um, sorry,” Kettleburn stammered. “I was hoping to find the headmaster here. He’s not in his office.”
“He’s gone down to the village to visit his brother,” Minerva explained, eyeing the man curiously. “He’ll probably be back shortly. Can I tell him what you wanted?”
“No, that’s all right. I guess it’s pretty late, I’ll just speak with him at breakfast tomorrow. Sorry to have disturbed you.” He shot a furtive look at Pomona and then turned and walked quickly back down the corridor.
“What was that about?” Poppy wondered aloud.
“He’s got a crush on Pomona,” Rolanda exclaimed gleefully. “And I think he was drunk.”
“You should talk,” Minerva said dryly. “Oh, here comes Albus now. You really will have to leave.”
The other three women groaned and reluctantly got up to vacate the room so Minerva could have Albus to herself. As they were leaving Rolanda made one of her famous remarks that had nothing to do with anything in particular.
“You know,” she said, “I accidentally walked in on Severus getting out of the bath the other day.”
“He bathes?” Poppy asked in a rare moment of cattiness. “His hair is so greasy you could have fooled me.”
Rolanda grinned evilly, “Yah, his hair may be greasy, but he is hung like a horse.”
The other three woman groaned in protest and expressed the unanimous sentiment that they had no need of such knowledge – ever. Poppy grabbed Rolanda by the arm and began dragging her out of the room.
“You’ve definitely had too much to drink, let’s go.”
As the woman walked away down the corridor, Minerva heard them all greet her husband and then break into song. The lyrics were so slurred and were interspersed with so many giggles that she couldn’t make out what they were singing, but when Albus finally reached her side nothing else mattered.
“Hello, my dear,” he said with a smile. “Did you have a good evening?”
“Oh, the usual,” she answered lightly. “How is Aberforth?”
“The usual,” he repeated with a chuckle. “Do I get a welcome home kiss?”
Minerva smiled and moved further into the room as Albus kicked the door closed behind them. Unfortunately, she tripped over the leg of a chair and would have fallen if not for her husband’s quick reflexes.
“You all right?” he asked, holding her close.
“No,” she answered with a broad smile.
Before Albus could ask what was wrong, or even determine the reason for her smile, he became the target of Minerva’s slightly drunken passion as she captured his lips in a long hungry kiss.
When the kiss was over, she smiled up into his desire darkened eyes and said, “Now I’m all right.”
Albus laughed and drew her to him for another kiss as the couple awkwardly made their way through the remnants of the party toward their bedroom door.
The End
Summary: Minerva and her friends have a little too much to drink.
Rating: 13+
A/N: I took a few liberties with some of the lines in the challenge, hope that’s okay. This certainly isn’t my best work, but this isn’t my kind of story. It was written by request and I hope at least satisfies the person for whom it is written.
Minerva McGonagall poured another round of strawberry margaritas for herself and her three friends, levitating the glasses to their respective drinkers before retaking her seat in an armchair near the fire.
“I wish Albus would come home from the Hog’s Head. I don’t like him being there so late,” she said.
“Well we’re glad he’s out late,” Roland Hooch argued. “If he came home we’d have to leave and I’m not in the mood to make this an early night.”
“You could always continue the party somewhere else, you know,” Minerva pointed out.
“Without you, dear? Never!” exclaimed a tipsy Pomona Sprout.
Minerva rolled her eyes and turned her attention back to her drink just as there was a knock at the door. She pulled herself out of the chair, only just beginning to realize the effect that four drinks had made on her senses, and opened the door to find one of the last people she ever would have expected.
“Augusta!” Minerva exclaimed. “What on Earth are you doing here?”
“I’m sorry, Minerva, I know it’s late. I was looking for Poppy and heard she might be here. Do you mind?” The other woman didn’t even wait for an answer before pushing past Minerva and into the room. “There you are, Poppy. Could I have a word?”
The school nurse excused herself and followed Augusta Longbottom to the other side of the room, away from her friends. They engaged in a low voiced conversation for a few minutes and then Poppy made excuses for both of them and ushered the slightly older witch out of the room.
She came back alone inside fifteen minutes and explained to the others. “Ever since Frank and Alice were attacked Augusta has been having trouble sleeping. I know she should see a Healer at St. Mungo’s, but I’ve been slipping her small amounts of dreamless sleep potion. Going to the hospital now is too difficult for the poor woman.”
For a long moment, there was a respectful silence in the room as the four witches thought about the not so very distant events that had taken so much from so many lives. The silence was broken when Pomona, who had finished her fourth drink and started on the fifth during Poppy’s absence, upset her chair and fell to the floor.
“I’m okay,” she said, rather too loudly, as she picked herself up with an effort and righted the chair.
Her accident, however, had broken the somber mood as her friends laughed and Poppy took her glass away.
“I think you’ve had quite enough,” the medi-witch chided.
“Oh, just let me finish that one. It’s so good,” Pomona wheedled.
“Remember what happened last time? You were so sick I thought we’d have to take you to the hospital.”
“I wasn’t that sick.”
“Yes, you were,” Minerva interposed sternly. “I think Poppy’s right. Actually, we’ve probably all had more than enough.” As if to prove her point, the deputy headmistress very uncharacteristically hiccoughed as she set her glass down with a wobbly hand.
Rolanda, however, had other plans. “Oh no you don’t, Minerva. You haven’t had enough until you start telling us all the things you never meant to tell us.”
“Such as?” Minerva asked, giving her friend a warning look.
“Well,” Rolanda said with exaggerated innocence, “I believe the last time we all got drunk you said something to the effect of we’d never believe what Albus can do with his tongue. Then,” she carried on, despite Poppy’s warning tug to her sleeve, “you passed out before you could answer my question as to whether his beard gets in the way.”
“I never said any such thing,” Minerva protested, “and I’m not going to dignify that question with a response.”
Rolanda poured yet another drink for herself and quietly moved Minerva’s now filled glass closer to her arm in such a way that she would be sure to pick it up and absent mindedly drink more. Then, she abruptly changed the topic of conversation hoping to lull Minerva into a false sense of security and then once more spring her questions regarding the headmaster. It wasn’t that she had any personal interest in Albus Dumbledore, but Minerva was so closed mouthed about anything personal that the flying instructor had made it her goal in life to find out as many incriminating things as she could.
“Do you hear something?” Minerva asked a few minutes later.
The other three shook their heads, but grew quiet trying to listen. After a few moments, they were able to make out what Minerva’s cat-like sense of hearing had picked up on even through the din of their chatter. It sounded like a masculine voice trying to guess the password into her rooms.
“I suppose that’s Albus and now the party is over,” Pomona complained.
“It doesn’t sound like Albus,” Minerva answered. “Besides, he knows my password.”
She got up and quickly and silently crossed to the door, flinging it open to reveal a very sheepish looking Care of Magical Creatures professor.
“Ah, um, sorry,” Kettleburn stammered. “I was hoping to find the headmaster here. He’s not in his office.”
“He’s gone down to the village to visit his brother,” Minerva explained, eyeing the man curiously. “He’ll probably be back shortly. Can I tell him what you wanted?”
“No, that’s all right. I guess it’s pretty late, I’ll just speak with him at breakfast tomorrow. Sorry to have disturbed you.” He shot a furtive look at Pomona and then turned and walked quickly back down the corridor.
“What was that about?” Poppy wondered aloud.
“He’s got a crush on Pomona,” Rolanda exclaimed gleefully. “And I think he was drunk.”
“You should talk,” Minerva said dryly. “Oh, here comes Albus now. You really will have to leave.”
The other three women groaned and reluctantly got up to vacate the room so Minerva could have Albus to herself. As they were leaving Rolanda made one of her famous remarks that had nothing to do with anything in particular.
“You know,” she said, “I accidentally walked in on Severus getting out of the bath the other day.”
“He bathes?” Poppy asked in a rare moment of cattiness. “His hair is so greasy you could have fooled me.”
Rolanda grinned evilly, “Yah, his hair may be greasy, but he is hung like a horse.”
The other three woman groaned in protest and expressed the unanimous sentiment that they had no need of such knowledge – ever. Poppy grabbed Rolanda by the arm and began dragging her out of the room.
“You’ve definitely had too much to drink, let’s go.”
As the woman walked away down the corridor, Minerva heard them all greet her husband and then break into song. The lyrics were so slurred and were interspersed with so many giggles that she couldn’t make out what they were singing, but when Albus finally reached her side nothing else mattered.
“Hello, my dear,” he said with a smile. “Did you have a good evening?”
“Oh, the usual,” she answered lightly. “How is Aberforth?”
“The usual,” he repeated with a chuckle. “Do I get a welcome home kiss?”
Minerva smiled and moved further into the room as Albus kicked the door closed behind them. Unfortunately, she tripped over the leg of a chair and would have fallen if not for her husband’s quick reflexes.
“You all right?” he asked, holding her close.
“No,” she answered with a broad smile.
Before Albus could ask what was wrong, or even determine the reason for her smile, he became the target of Minerva’s slightly drunken passion as she captured his lips in a long hungry kiss.
When the kiss was over, she smiled up into his desire darkened eyes and said, “Now I’m all right.”
Albus laughed and drew her to him for another kiss as the couple awkwardly made their way through the remnants of the party toward their bedroom door.
The End
... gotta love slightly drunk Minerva sometimes 
!
