Post by mininerva on Dec 16, 2005 0:02:58 GMT -5
The Magic of a Kiss
A Challenge #50 Response
By: MiniNerva
A/N – This is my first challenge response, and also the first story I have posted on the board, although I have been a member for a while. I used to write a lot of AD/MM fics a few years ago, but then got too busy, so this is the first time I’ve written fanfiction in 3 or 4 years. *gasp* It’s nice to get back to it. I hope everyone enjoys this – I love Student!Minerva so I couldn’t resist setting this during her seventh year. Happy reading!
* * *
Minerva McGonagall stared in dismay at her Transfiguration exam. It was covered in black ink, all because she had been distracted by Professor Dumbledore’s eyes. She had been nearly finished when she had looked up and found him watching her. Their eyes met and she was so flustered by the look she found there that she had knocked over her ink bottle. Right onto her nearly completed Transfiguration exam.
There were only five minutes to go before the end of the exam. Professor Dumbledore rushed over and began blotting up the ink, kneeling beside her desk. The proximity of his body made Minerva feel even more flustered, a feeling she was not accustomed to.
“I – I – sorry, sir,” she whispered.
“No matter, Miss McGonagall,” he said, and performed a complex spell to vanish the spilled ink but not the words underneath. “There you go,” he said softly. His hand touched her shoulder briefly as he stood and walked back to the front of the classroom. “Three minutes,” he said to the class. Minerva tried to concentrate, to add a stunning conclusion to her essay, but all she could think about was how her professor’s hand had felt on her shoulder.
Minerva and her professor had been fighting their attraction for months now, but it was only growing stronger. The air was so thick with desire at her private Animagus lessons that Minerva was afraid she would do accidental magic. She had recently achieved her first transformation into the little tabby cat but the lessons continued, ostensibly so that she could learn to transform more easily and hold her cat form for longer periods of time. Actually she had no trouble transforming and could hold her form for hours without straining. They spent most of the time talking, playing chess, or just working, he on his grading and she on her studies. Neither of the wanted the “lessons” to end.
Minerva knew that her professor was as attracted to her as she was to him; he didn’t hide it very well, especially when they were alone. But he was too noble to act on his desire, and so far Minerva had been too timid to initiate anything beyond a good-night hug. Said hug had set her nerve endings thrumming and she hadn’t been able to sleep for hours. She decided that night that she wanted to get more intimate with Professor Dumbledore before she graduated. She didn’t know if she would be able to see him again after she left Hogwarts, and she was of age now, after all. And she wasn’t a Gryffindor for nothing.
Thank you for salvaging my essay, she wrote in lieu of a brilliant conclusion, but it is because of you that I spilled the ink in the first place – your eyes are so captivating that I was completely distracted. I hope to be given the opportunity to look into them again, at length, without an exam or an ink spill to interrupt. In fact I hope to be given many such opportunities; I want to be more than just a student to you.
Her hands trembled as Dumbledore came around to collect the exams and she handed hers to him. His fingers brushed her but she didn’t dare look up. Her heart was pounding nervously, and she wondered whether Dumbledore would respond to her forward note.
She got her answer that evening in the common room. She was pretending to study, but actually she was looking at a picture of Dumbledore that she had tucked into her Herbology book. She was enjoying his twinkling blue eyes, although they weren’t quite as nice in a picture as in real life. Around her, her housemates chatted, studied, and played games. No one noticed that she hadn’t turned a page in nearly half an hour.
Suddenly a ball of fire exploded into the room near Minerva’s table. Several people screamed and one of the first years began gibbering hysterically.
It was Fawkes. The magnificent phoenix paraded along the table and dropped a note in front of Minerva.
“Thank you, Fawkes,” she said. She was surprised at how steady her voice sounded. Her throat was dry and her hands were shaking. Fawkes looked around at the students who were staring at him with awe and fear, sang one lovely note, and disappeared the way he had come. The first year screamed again and had to be carried up to her dormitory.
The note read,
Minerva,
Please come to my office. Tell your friends you have an Animagus lesson. I apologize for distracting you during your exam and I hope to make it up to you this evening. Besides, we have been dancing around each other for months and the time has come to talk openly.
A.D.
As Minerva stared at his loopy script, the words suddenly changed. The note now read,
Miss McGonagall,
Please come to my office for an Animagus lesson. I want to make sure you are prepared to demonstrate your form to the Ministry this weekend.
Prof. Dumbledore
She blinked in consternation. Had she imagined the first note?
“It’s so exciting that you’re going to be registered this weekend,” said a voice beside her, and Minerva realized that her friend Valerie was leaning over her shoulder and reading the note.
“Yeah,” she said, closing her book, careful to keep the picture from falling out. “Well, I’d better go.”
“Ok, see you later.” Valerie went back to her own books, and the original words returned to the note. Minerva smiled and put it in her pocket.
“Are you ready for this weekend?”
Dumbledore was sitting at his desk, his half-moon spectacles perched on his nose, a stack of half-graded exam papers in front of him.
“Of course,” Minerva replied, and changed into her cat form. She leapt up on Dumbledore’s desk and bumped her head against his writing hand. “Meow,” she said. He put down his quill and stroked her back, then picked her up and cradled her to his chest.
“What a beautiful cat you are,” he whispered. She purred and flexed her paws in pleasure. Her desire was less distinct in cat form, but still she was overcome by happiness at being so close to him. And she wished he were holding her as a woman, not a cat.
He rubbed under her chin, a favorite spot, and she closed her eyes. It felt so good. Any more and she might…
With a pop, she became human again, sitting sideways across Dumbledore’s lap, her arms around his neck.
“Professor!” she gasped. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean – “
“It’s all right, Minerva,” Dumbledore said calmly, but all of a sudden she became aware of a growing hardness beneath her. Not knowing what else to do, she sprang up.
“Does this mean I’m not ready after all?” she said. She had never lost her form by accident before.
“Strong feelings can lead to accidental magic if they are repressed,” he said. Minerva opened her mouth to speak, but Dumbledore stood and placed a finger on her lips.
“Come sit with me on the sofa,” he said, “and we will talk properly.”
Minerva nodded. She had been hoping for this moment for ages, but now that it was here she was terrified. Dumbledore took her by the hand and led her to the sofa. They sat, half turned towards each other. There was a long, awkward silence.
“I don’t know what to say,” Minerva said finally.
“Say what is in your heart,” Dumbledore said softly.
“I find it hard to think when I’m around you,” she told him honestly. Then, after a pause, she reflected, “I find that rather disturbing. I’m used to being able to think clearly, and I don’t like it when my mind gets befuddled.”
Dumbledore chuckled. “No, my dear, I can imagine that you don’t like that particular sensation at all. But repressed feelings can do that. I believe that no good can come of repressing one’s feelings.”
“Then why didn’t we have this talk sooner?” Minerva blurted out.
Dumbledore sighed. “Fear,” he said simply.
“You were afraid of losing your job?”
“And of being rejected,” he said, nodding, “But mostly I was afraid of taking advantage of you.”
“I am an adult,” Minerva said instantly. “I can make my own decisions.”
He chuckled again. “I have no doubt of that, Minerva. It just took me a while to understand fully how interested in me you are. I didn’t entirely understand until I read your note today.” He paused, and Minerva blushed a little. “Oh, I knew you were attracted to me,” he said, “but I passed it off as a simple crush on your part, and told myself that I was wrong to have such feelings for you in return. But now,” he reached out and twisted a strand of her black hair around his finger, “I understand quite fully that you are indeed interested in pursuing a relationship with me. I would have known that before, had I looked more carefully.”
Minerva, ever blunt, said, “Does this mean that we are a couple now?”
“Yes,” Dumbledore said. “But it goes without saying, does it not, that this must remain a secret, at least for now.”
“Of course.” Minerva nodded. There was a long pause, and she looked into his bright blue eyes. The depth of emotion she found there made her pulse race.
“Albus,” she said, savoring each syllable in her mouth.
“Yes?” He reached for her hand.
“Nothing. I just wanted to say your name.”
His hand found hers; their fingers entwined. “I hope to hear you say it many more times,” he said huskily.
They leaned toward each other; Dumbledore’s arms went around Minerva and she reciprocated instinctively. She had wished for this for so long, and now it was happening. She closed her eyes as Dumbledore’s lips touched hers, reveling in their softness. He kissed her lightly, gently, then drew back and pressed his lips to her forehead, her cheeks, the tip of her nose. Finally he returned to her lips and gave her a long kiss that grew in passion and intensity.
When Minerva opened her eyes, it was to see flames on Dumbledore’s desk. She blinked for a moment, then realized that the stack of exam papers was burning. She jumped up, and thinking fast, pulled out her want and sent a jet of water to put out the flames. Dumbledore turned around just in time to see the fire go out.
“Ah,” he said, surveying the blackened, soggy exams. “It would seem that accidental magic can be caused by releasing one’s feelings as well as repressing them.”
Minerva laughed, bell-like, and threw her arms around him.
“Let’s make some more magic,” she said, and pressed her lips to his.
A Challenge #50 Response
By: MiniNerva
A/N – This is my first challenge response, and also the first story I have posted on the board, although I have been a member for a while. I used to write a lot of AD/MM fics a few years ago, but then got too busy, so this is the first time I’ve written fanfiction in 3 or 4 years. *gasp* It’s nice to get back to it. I hope everyone enjoys this – I love Student!Minerva so I couldn’t resist setting this during her seventh year. Happy reading!
* * *
Minerva McGonagall stared in dismay at her Transfiguration exam. It was covered in black ink, all because she had been distracted by Professor Dumbledore’s eyes. She had been nearly finished when she had looked up and found him watching her. Their eyes met and she was so flustered by the look she found there that she had knocked over her ink bottle. Right onto her nearly completed Transfiguration exam.
There were only five minutes to go before the end of the exam. Professor Dumbledore rushed over and began blotting up the ink, kneeling beside her desk. The proximity of his body made Minerva feel even more flustered, a feeling she was not accustomed to.
“I – I – sorry, sir,” she whispered.
“No matter, Miss McGonagall,” he said, and performed a complex spell to vanish the spilled ink but not the words underneath. “There you go,” he said softly. His hand touched her shoulder briefly as he stood and walked back to the front of the classroom. “Three minutes,” he said to the class. Minerva tried to concentrate, to add a stunning conclusion to her essay, but all she could think about was how her professor’s hand had felt on her shoulder.
Minerva and her professor had been fighting their attraction for months now, but it was only growing stronger. The air was so thick with desire at her private Animagus lessons that Minerva was afraid she would do accidental magic. She had recently achieved her first transformation into the little tabby cat but the lessons continued, ostensibly so that she could learn to transform more easily and hold her cat form for longer periods of time. Actually she had no trouble transforming and could hold her form for hours without straining. They spent most of the time talking, playing chess, or just working, he on his grading and she on her studies. Neither of the wanted the “lessons” to end.
Minerva knew that her professor was as attracted to her as she was to him; he didn’t hide it very well, especially when they were alone. But he was too noble to act on his desire, and so far Minerva had been too timid to initiate anything beyond a good-night hug. Said hug had set her nerve endings thrumming and she hadn’t been able to sleep for hours. She decided that night that she wanted to get more intimate with Professor Dumbledore before she graduated. She didn’t know if she would be able to see him again after she left Hogwarts, and she was of age now, after all. And she wasn’t a Gryffindor for nothing.
Thank you for salvaging my essay, she wrote in lieu of a brilliant conclusion, but it is because of you that I spilled the ink in the first place – your eyes are so captivating that I was completely distracted. I hope to be given the opportunity to look into them again, at length, without an exam or an ink spill to interrupt. In fact I hope to be given many such opportunities; I want to be more than just a student to you.
Her hands trembled as Dumbledore came around to collect the exams and she handed hers to him. His fingers brushed her but she didn’t dare look up. Her heart was pounding nervously, and she wondered whether Dumbledore would respond to her forward note.
She got her answer that evening in the common room. She was pretending to study, but actually she was looking at a picture of Dumbledore that she had tucked into her Herbology book. She was enjoying his twinkling blue eyes, although they weren’t quite as nice in a picture as in real life. Around her, her housemates chatted, studied, and played games. No one noticed that she hadn’t turned a page in nearly half an hour.
Suddenly a ball of fire exploded into the room near Minerva’s table. Several people screamed and one of the first years began gibbering hysterically.
It was Fawkes. The magnificent phoenix paraded along the table and dropped a note in front of Minerva.
“Thank you, Fawkes,” she said. She was surprised at how steady her voice sounded. Her throat was dry and her hands were shaking. Fawkes looked around at the students who were staring at him with awe and fear, sang one lovely note, and disappeared the way he had come. The first year screamed again and had to be carried up to her dormitory.
The note read,
Minerva,
Please come to my office. Tell your friends you have an Animagus lesson. I apologize for distracting you during your exam and I hope to make it up to you this evening. Besides, we have been dancing around each other for months and the time has come to talk openly.
A.D.
As Minerva stared at his loopy script, the words suddenly changed. The note now read,
Miss McGonagall,
Please come to my office for an Animagus lesson. I want to make sure you are prepared to demonstrate your form to the Ministry this weekend.
Prof. Dumbledore
She blinked in consternation. Had she imagined the first note?
“It’s so exciting that you’re going to be registered this weekend,” said a voice beside her, and Minerva realized that her friend Valerie was leaning over her shoulder and reading the note.
“Yeah,” she said, closing her book, careful to keep the picture from falling out. “Well, I’d better go.”
“Ok, see you later.” Valerie went back to her own books, and the original words returned to the note. Minerva smiled and put it in her pocket.
“Are you ready for this weekend?”
Dumbledore was sitting at his desk, his half-moon spectacles perched on his nose, a stack of half-graded exam papers in front of him.
“Of course,” Minerva replied, and changed into her cat form. She leapt up on Dumbledore’s desk and bumped her head against his writing hand. “Meow,” she said. He put down his quill and stroked her back, then picked her up and cradled her to his chest.
“What a beautiful cat you are,” he whispered. She purred and flexed her paws in pleasure. Her desire was less distinct in cat form, but still she was overcome by happiness at being so close to him. And she wished he were holding her as a woman, not a cat.
He rubbed under her chin, a favorite spot, and she closed her eyes. It felt so good. Any more and she might…
With a pop, she became human again, sitting sideways across Dumbledore’s lap, her arms around his neck.
“Professor!” she gasped. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean – “
“It’s all right, Minerva,” Dumbledore said calmly, but all of a sudden she became aware of a growing hardness beneath her. Not knowing what else to do, she sprang up.
“Does this mean I’m not ready after all?” she said. She had never lost her form by accident before.
“Strong feelings can lead to accidental magic if they are repressed,” he said. Minerva opened her mouth to speak, but Dumbledore stood and placed a finger on her lips.
“Come sit with me on the sofa,” he said, “and we will talk properly.”
Minerva nodded. She had been hoping for this moment for ages, but now that it was here she was terrified. Dumbledore took her by the hand and led her to the sofa. They sat, half turned towards each other. There was a long, awkward silence.
“I don’t know what to say,” Minerva said finally.
“Say what is in your heart,” Dumbledore said softly.
“I find it hard to think when I’m around you,” she told him honestly. Then, after a pause, she reflected, “I find that rather disturbing. I’m used to being able to think clearly, and I don’t like it when my mind gets befuddled.”
Dumbledore chuckled. “No, my dear, I can imagine that you don’t like that particular sensation at all. But repressed feelings can do that. I believe that no good can come of repressing one’s feelings.”
“Then why didn’t we have this talk sooner?” Minerva blurted out.
Dumbledore sighed. “Fear,” he said simply.
“You were afraid of losing your job?”
“And of being rejected,” he said, nodding, “But mostly I was afraid of taking advantage of you.”
“I am an adult,” Minerva said instantly. “I can make my own decisions.”
He chuckled again. “I have no doubt of that, Minerva. It just took me a while to understand fully how interested in me you are. I didn’t entirely understand until I read your note today.” He paused, and Minerva blushed a little. “Oh, I knew you were attracted to me,” he said, “but I passed it off as a simple crush on your part, and told myself that I was wrong to have such feelings for you in return. But now,” he reached out and twisted a strand of her black hair around his finger, “I understand quite fully that you are indeed interested in pursuing a relationship with me. I would have known that before, had I looked more carefully.”
Minerva, ever blunt, said, “Does this mean that we are a couple now?”
“Yes,” Dumbledore said. “But it goes without saying, does it not, that this must remain a secret, at least for now.”
“Of course.” Minerva nodded. There was a long pause, and she looked into his bright blue eyes. The depth of emotion she found there made her pulse race.
“Albus,” she said, savoring each syllable in her mouth.
“Yes?” He reached for her hand.
“Nothing. I just wanted to say your name.”
His hand found hers; their fingers entwined. “I hope to hear you say it many more times,” he said huskily.
They leaned toward each other; Dumbledore’s arms went around Minerva and she reciprocated instinctively. She had wished for this for so long, and now it was happening. She closed her eyes as Dumbledore’s lips touched hers, reveling in their softness. He kissed her lightly, gently, then drew back and pressed his lips to her forehead, her cheeks, the tip of her nose. Finally he returned to her lips and gave her a long kiss that grew in passion and intensity.
When Minerva opened her eyes, it was to see flames on Dumbledore’s desk. She blinked for a moment, then realized that the stack of exam papers was burning. She jumped up, and thinking fast, pulled out her want and sent a jet of water to put out the flames. Dumbledore turned around just in time to see the fire go out.
“Ah,” he said, surveying the blackened, soggy exams. “It would seem that accidental magic can be caused by releasing one’s feelings as well as repressing them.”
Minerva laughed, bell-like, and threw her arms around him.
“Let’s make some more magic,” she said, and pressed her lips to his.
