Post by LinZE on Aug 8, 2006 10:24:49 GMT -5
BIRTHDAY GIRL
Summary : Set during Half Blood Prince, Minerva's birthday.
Minerva sighed and raised a hand to her forehead in an attempt to relieve the pressure that had been building steadily there all day. She loved teaching, really she did, and most of the time she was fairly certain that she was quite good at it but apparently today was not going to be one of her best examples of her talents. This birthday was certainly not shaping up to be one of her best.
The day had started poorly simply due to the fact that Albus had not been next to her when she had woken. Usually it was his presence beside her that left her unwilling to rise from their bed, but this morning it had been genuine fatigue that had made it so difficult for her to coax her body from between the covers. In all likely-hood the reason for this was the trouble she had had falling to sleep since her husband’s abrupt departure almost a fortnight ago. She had spent the first two nights after Albus’ departure awake, knowing that it was stupid to wait up for him, as he had brushed off all of her attempts to establish when it was he would be back, but still not able to settle. The nights following had not been much better to the point that Poppy had felt the need to start mothering her. Minerva was well versed at keeping a front up for the students, and even most of the staff but when it came down to those of their close friends who knew about her and Albus’ marriage she was less successful.
“Put that down Mr French.” she said with as much calm as she could muster. “Just because Miss Miller felt the need to poke you with her garden cane is no reason why you should return the favour.” she continued when the 2nd year Hufflepuff tried to interrupt. She was only glad for the small concession that it was at least the last period of the day and thus she would soon be able to retreat their rooms. That was until a sound of Weasley’s Wildfire Whiz-Bangs that was becoming far too recognisable far too quickly echoed through the castle corridors.
Whenever a ruckus of any great merit occurred within the corridors of Hogwarts it was normal practice that the school medi-witch was alerted. Years of experience had taught Poppy Pomfrey that whenever possible, it was better to be on hand to treat any consequences than to let them escalate until things were so bad that the student felt the need to seek her out.
On this occasion however, she was more preoccupied with watching the Deputy Head Mistress than she was on dealing with the minor ailments caused by an over-exuberant use of fireworks indoors. The other woman was so obviously exhausted that it concerned her. Over the last few years she had watched her best friend be worn away at by the approach of war, by the weight of responsibility she felt heavy on her shoulders. Albus’ tendency to disappear without warning that had developed over the last few months certainly wasn’t helping matters much. In previous years it had been at least February before she had seemed so frazzled and this fact alone made her rile against the Headmaster.
“Has it really been such a horrible day?” Poppy asked, approaching her old friend once the other woman had dismissed her students.
“You have no idea.” came the quiet reply.
“Well come on then Birthday Girl, let me order you a little privacy huh?” she offered, knowing how much the other woman would be looking forward to sitting next to her Husband’s empty seat all through dinner, under the watchful eyes of the entire student body. “Lets go back to your rooms and share a cup of tea yes? And then you can have a bath and I will order us both dinner and I will only stay long enough to make sure you actually eat something and force a dose of Dreamless Sleep down your throat.” She received a hollow chuckle in return.
“If I wasn’t feeling my age already, how appealing that sounds would certainly reaffirm how old I am becoming.” said Minerva, typically depreciatively. At 72 years, despite all the stress and turmoil she had endured over the years, Minerva McGonagall still looked better than most middle aged witches could even hope to.
“Have you heard from Albus yet?” Poppy asked in hushed tones, as they walked towards the other woman’s room. All she received in reply was a sharp shake of the head. The Hufflepuff knew deep down that whatever it was that Albus Dumbledore was off doing when he was away from the school was likely hugely important but she did wonder sometimes if he realised what a strain he put on his wife when he vanished without a trace for weeks at a time. The sombre mood was lifted slightly when both women couldn’t help but smile as the small boy whose portrait guarded the entrance to her private rooms, sang a quiet if apparently heartfelt verse of Happy Birthday.
In the end it was less than half an hour later that saw Poppy having ordered dinner for two and having settled down to wait for Minerva to emerge from the bathroom. The younger woman appeared just as a house elf popped into existence with the tray.
“And for your enjoyment this evening,” Poppy said with a flourish, lifting the silver lid that covered one of the plates as her friend walked into the sitting room, wrapping her dressing-gown more tightly around her slender waist. “oooh, Mince and Tatties.” She said with a smile and a very bad attempt at a Scottish accent.
“If I could muster the enthusiasm,” Minerva began tying off her impossibly long braid and perching on the edge of the sofa and pinched the bridge of her now “I would hex you for that shocking impersonation. You have been living in Scotland for nigh on thirty years now.”
“Has it really been as long as that?” Poppy said with a dramatic sigh, noting that the soak did not appear to have alleviated her friends’ headache. “Now get stuck in before it gets cold.” The medi-witch ordered with a mock scowl.
When it became obvious that despite Poppy’s hopes Minerva was not going to eat any more of her food she vanished the trays with a flick of her wand, keeping only a single goblet which she then proceeded to pour a liberal dose of Dreamless Sleep, which she had already slipped into her pocket with the intention of dosing her friend up before she was called out, and added an additional analgesic all the while under the watchful gaze of the transfiguration mistress. When she held it out, Minerva took the goblet but didn’t make any move to drink the contents.
“I now how much you dislike it, but there’s really no shame in needing something to help you get some sleep every once in a blue moon.” Poppy said quietly.
“I suppose not.” Minerva replied entirely dead-pan. “I was hoping for something other than one of Severus’ vile concoctions as a birthday present however.”
“This from the woman who thinks that birthday presents are merely an excuse for people to unload tat onto other people? Well, I did have something else for you, but I wasn’t planning on not returning to my rooms before I saw you, so I didn’t bring it with me. Now drink your potion like a good girl and you’ll get your present in the morning.”
Minerva arched a single eyebrow in true fashion but drank up.
“Now – if you are satisfied, you may leave and allow me to retire with at least a little dignity still intact.”
“Whatever the Birthday Girl wishes.” Poppy said with a smile, only to have Minerva roll her eyes in response.
“Only for another five hours.” She pointed out. “I can’t believe that it’s only seven o’clock and I’m about to go to bed.” She added with a sigh.
“You’ve one or two missed hours to make up for, I’d say.” she said more seriously. “Now go get your self settled down for the night would you? And I’ll see you in the morning.” She laid a hand on the other woman’s shoulder and squeezed gently.
Albus stole into the castle with the same quiet with which he had left it. It was barely eight o’clock and though it was later than he had hoped to return, he was still looking forward to spending the remainder of the evening with his wife. Minerva’s schedule dictated that between the hours of half past seven and half past eight she would be in her office so that she could offer help to any student who wanted it. With this knowledge in mind, he climbed the stairs towards her office, taking a moment to conjure a fairy-cake (complete with candle), before he knocked on the door. He waited several moments for a reply, but it was only when he glanced downward that it dawned on him that there was no candlelight escaping from beneath the door. He waited a few more moments and knocked again, with more force this time, but when he still received no reply he glanced around the empty corridor before muttering her password and opening the door.
The room was, as he expected but had not previously predicted, deserted. Minerva’s in-tray was empty but there was no sign of her hat, which typically hung on the coat-stand after she removed it on her return from dinner. Thus being the case he could only assume that she had not returned to her office after dinner. Slightly perplexed by this he crossed towards the floor length hanging and pushing it aside he opened the door that led to Minerva’s private rooms where he would join her as often as he was able. His tread was light and he was guided solely by the minimal light of the candle in the cake he still held, and his own memory.
He emerged into their living room to find it well lit but also deserted. The room was neat, something that was in and of itself a sign of his absence, with the exception a single goblet sitting on the low table before the fire. He lifted the drinking vessel and cautiously sniffed it, immediately recognising it’s former contents as having been primarily Dreamless Sleep potion. This revelation brought a frown to the Headmaster’s forehead, knowing how much his wife disliked such measures he could only imagine the state she must have been in before she conceded to what was undoubtedly Poppy’s mothering.
Blowing out the candle, which was barely a stump now, he crossed over to the bedroom, and pushed open the door as quietly as he was able. The sight that met his eyes was breathtaking and harrowing at once. He had always been fascinated by the sight of Minerva asleep, she seemed only to really let her guard down when she fell into a deep slumber and yet as he watched her, sprawled atop the covers, knowing that her sleep was chemically induced, she still seemed to carry an unjust burden. Placing the fairy cake on Minerva’s bedside table, he perched on the edge of the mattress and placed a hand on her back. As his wife had always been thin, verging on unhealthily so, she tended to feel the cold and therefore it was most unusual for her to have forgone burying herself beneath the covers. Again, Albus took this as another sign that the dose Poppy had prescribed had been a strong one, knocking her out before she got much further than their bedchamber.
Minerva shifted, moaning slightly in her sleep and Albus lifted a hand to her forehead, pushing back stray strands of hair from her face in an attempt to comfort her. She soon settled, turning and leaning into him as a child into a parents touch, a gesture that caused an iron fist to close around his heart. It always surprised him just how vulnerable his solid, stoic wife really was and it was at moments like this when he wondered if he too often forgot that despite appearances, Minerva was far more delicate than she let on. He placed such an unfair burden upon her shoulders, he left her wondering what had happened to him and if he would ever return for days at a time, on top of her natural compassion for all those whom she taught and the automatic anxiety that that resulted in at times such as these. He wished he could say that she would have been better off without him, and if they had never met then perhaps that would have been true, but even when their friendship had been in it’s earliest stage, Albus Dumbledore had known that it was too late to break the bonds of friendship and love that had already grown between them.
Sighing and shaking himself to rid his tired mind of these thoughts, Albus removed his outer robe and toed off his boots before rounding the bed and carefully climbing into the other side. He waited for his wife to roll over once more and settle against him before summoning the covers up around them both.
“Alb…” Minerva murmured a few minutes later.
“Yes, my dear, I’m here.” he responded, stroking her back gently as she shifted even closer towards him. “Happy Birthday love. Now you just go back to sleep.” he continued, suspecting that she had never really woken in the first place.
The only response he received was a contented sigh, after which his wife seemed to relax in his embrace. He laid a gentle kiss ontop of her head and settled down in an attempt to find some rest himself. For all Albus tried though, it was many hours before he drifted off into a light sleep.
Minerva McGonagall did not enjoy waking up from drugged sleep. It was like fighting ones way through warm treacle and for someone who usually woke abruptly it was a most disturbing sensation. Her previous experience with Dreamless Sleep, though limited, had left her familiar with the sensation of repressed dreams that washed over her on awaking. As her eyes flickered open, she was struck by an odd recollection of Albus holding her against his chest, her head tucked beneath his chin and his voice calm and reassuring in her ear. However, it had obviously been nothing more than a dream as once more she had woken alone. Rolling over, readying herself to get up, shower and face the day she spotted something on the bedside table that made her question that fact. There, perched on top of the book she had spent so many midnight hours of late reading, sat a lonesome fairy cake. The stump of a candle stuck into the icing, surrounded by a pool of melted wax. She smiled, this small, dried out confection somehow leaving her certain that this day would be better than the last.
Summary : Set during Half Blood Prince, Minerva's birthday.
Minerva sighed and raised a hand to her forehead in an attempt to relieve the pressure that had been building steadily there all day. She loved teaching, really she did, and most of the time she was fairly certain that she was quite good at it but apparently today was not going to be one of her best examples of her talents. This birthday was certainly not shaping up to be one of her best.
The day had started poorly simply due to the fact that Albus had not been next to her when she had woken. Usually it was his presence beside her that left her unwilling to rise from their bed, but this morning it had been genuine fatigue that had made it so difficult for her to coax her body from between the covers. In all likely-hood the reason for this was the trouble she had had falling to sleep since her husband’s abrupt departure almost a fortnight ago. She had spent the first two nights after Albus’ departure awake, knowing that it was stupid to wait up for him, as he had brushed off all of her attempts to establish when it was he would be back, but still not able to settle. The nights following had not been much better to the point that Poppy had felt the need to start mothering her. Minerva was well versed at keeping a front up for the students, and even most of the staff but when it came down to those of their close friends who knew about her and Albus’ marriage she was less successful.
“Put that down Mr French.” she said with as much calm as she could muster. “Just because Miss Miller felt the need to poke you with her garden cane is no reason why you should return the favour.” she continued when the 2nd year Hufflepuff tried to interrupt. She was only glad for the small concession that it was at least the last period of the day and thus she would soon be able to retreat their rooms. That was until a sound of Weasley’s Wildfire Whiz-Bangs that was becoming far too recognisable far too quickly echoed through the castle corridors.
Whenever a ruckus of any great merit occurred within the corridors of Hogwarts it was normal practice that the school medi-witch was alerted. Years of experience had taught Poppy Pomfrey that whenever possible, it was better to be on hand to treat any consequences than to let them escalate until things were so bad that the student felt the need to seek her out.
On this occasion however, she was more preoccupied with watching the Deputy Head Mistress than she was on dealing with the minor ailments caused by an over-exuberant use of fireworks indoors. The other woman was so obviously exhausted that it concerned her. Over the last few years she had watched her best friend be worn away at by the approach of war, by the weight of responsibility she felt heavy on her shoulders. Albus’ tendency to disappear without warning that had developed over the last few months certainly wasn’t helping matters much. In previous years it had been at least February before she had seemed so frazzled and this fact alone made her rile against the Headmaster.
“Has it really been such a horrible day?” Poppy asked, approaching her old friend once the other woman had dismissed her students.
“You have no idea.” came the quiet reply.
“Well come on then Birthday Girl, let me order you a little privacy huh?” she offered, knowing how much the other woman would be looking forward to sitting next to her Husband’s empty seat all through dinner, under the watchful eyes of the entire student body. “Lets go back to your rooms and share a cup of tea yes? And then you can have a bath and I will order us both dinner and I will only stay long enough to make sure you actually eat something and force a dose of Dreamless Sleep down your throat.” She received a hollow chuckle in return.
“If I wasn’t feeling my age already, how appealing that sounds would certainly reaffirm how old I am becoming.” said Minerva, typically depreciatively. At 72 years, despite all the stress and turmoil she had endured over the years, Minerva McGonagall still looked better than most middle aged witches could even hope to.
“Have you heard from Albus yet?” Poppy asked in hushed tones, as they walked towards the other woman’s room. All she received in reply was a sharp shake of the head. The Hufflepuff knew deep down that whatever it was that Albus Dumbledore was off doing when he was away from the school was likely hugely important but she did wonder sometimes if he realised what a strain he put on his wife when he vanished without a trace for weeks at a time. The sombre mood was lifted slightly when both women couldn’t help but smile as the small boy whose portrait guarded the entrance to her private rooms, sang a quiet if apparently heartfelt verse of Happy Birthday.
In the end it was less than half an hour later that saw Poppy having ordered dinner for two and having settled down to wait for Minerva to emerge from the bathroom. The younger woman appeared just as a house elf popped into existence with the tray.
“And for your enjoyment this evening,” Poppy said with a flourish, lifting the silver lid that covered one of the plates as her friend walked into the sitting room, wrapping her dressing-gown more tightly around her slender waist. “oooh, Mince and Tatties.” She said with a smile and a very bad attempt at a Scottish accent.
“If I could muster the enthusiasm,” Minerva began tying off her impossibly long braid and perching on the edge of the sofa and pinched the bridge of her now “I would hex you for that shocking impersonation. You have been living in Scotland for nigh on thirty years now.”
“Has it really been as long as that?” Poppy said with a dramatic sigh, noting that the soak did not appear to have alleviated her friends’ headache. “Now get stuck in before it gets cold.” The medi-witch ordered with a mock scowl.
When it became obvious that despite Poppy’s hopes Minerva was not going to eat any more of her food she vanished the trays with a flick of her wand, keeping only a single goblet which she then proceeded to pour a liberal dose of Dreamless Sleep, which she had already slipped into her pocket with the intention of dosing her friend up before she was called out, and added an additional analgesic all the while under the watchful gaze of the transfiguration mistress. When she held it out, Minerva took the goblet but didn’t make any move to drink the contents.
“I now how much you dislike it, but there’s really no shame in needing something to help you get some sleep every once in a blue moon.” Poppy said quietly.
“I suppose not.” Minerva replied entirely dead-pan. “I was hoping for something other than one of Severus’ vile concoctions as a birthday present however.”
“This from the woman who thinks that birthday presents are merely an excuse for people to unload tat onto other people? Well, I did have something else for you, but I wasn’t planning on not returning to my rooms before I saw you, so I didn’t bring it with me. Now drink your potion like a good girl and you’ll get your present in the morning.”
Minerva arched a single eyebrow in true fashion but drank up.
“Now – if you are satisfied, you may leave and allow me to retire with at least a little dignity still intact.”
“Whatever the Birthday Girl wishes.” Poppy said with a smile, only to have Minerva roll her eyes in response.
“Only for another five hours.” She pointed out. “I can’t believe that it’s only seven o’clock and I’m about to go to bed.” She added with a sigh.
“You’ve one or two missed hours to make up for, I’d say.” she said more seriously. “Now go get your self settled down for the night would you? And I’ll see you in the morning.” She laid a hand on the other woman’s shoulder and squeezed gently.
Albus stole into the castle with the same quiet with which he had left it. It was barely eight o’clock and though it was later than he had hoped to return, he was still looking forward to spending the remainder of the evening with his wife. Minerva’s schedule dictated that between the hours of half past seven and half past eight she would be in her office so that she could offer help to any student who wanted it. With this knowledge in mind, he climbed the stairs towards her office, taking a moment to conjure a fairy-cake (complete with candle), before he knocked on the door. He waited several moments for a reply, but it was only when he glanced downward that it dawned on him that there was no candlelight escaping from beneath the door. He waited a few more moments and knocked again, with more force this time, but when he still received no reply he glanced around the empty corridor before muttering her password and opening the door.
The room was, as he expected but had not previously predicted, deserted. Minerva’s in-tray was empty but there was no sign of her hat, which typically hung on the coat-stand after she removed it on her return from dinner. Thus being the case he could only assume that she had not returned to her office after dinner. Slightly perplexed by this he crossed towards the floor length hanging and pushing it aside he opened the door that led to Minerva’s private rooms where he would join her as often as he was able. His tread was light and he was guided solely by the minimal light of the candle in the cake he still held, and his own memory.
He emerged into their living room to find it well lit but also deserted. The room was neat, something that was in and of itself a sign of his absence, with the exception a single goblet sitting on the low table before the fire. He lifted the drinking vessel and cautiously sniffed it, immediately recognising it’s former contents as having been primarily Dreamless Sleep potion. This revelation brought a frown to the Headmaster’s forehead, knowing how much his wife disliked such measures he could only imagine the state she must have been in before she conceded to what was undoubtedly Poppy’s mothering.
Blowing out the candle, which was barely a stump now, he crossed over to the bedroom, and pushed open the door as quietly as he was able. The sight that met his eyes was breathtaking and harrowing at once. He had always been fascinated by the sight of Minerva asleep, she seemed only to really let her guard down when she fell into a deep slumber and yet as he watched her, sprawled atop the covers, knowing that her sleep was chemically induced, she still seemed to carry an unjust burden. Placing the fairy cake on Minerva’s bedside table, he perched on the edge of the mattress and placed a hand on her back. As his wife had always been thin, verging on unhealthily so, she tended to feel the cold and therefore it was most unusual for her to have forgone burying herself beneath the covers. Again, Albus took this as another sign that the dose Poppy had prescribed had been a strong one, knocking her out before she got much further than their bedchamber.
Minerva shifted, moaning slightly in her sleep and Albus lifted a hand to her forehead, pushing back stray strands of hair from her face in an attempt to comfort her. She soon settled, turning and leaning into him as a child into a parents touch, a gesture that caused an iron fist to close around his heart. It always surprised him just how vulnerable his solid, stoic wife really was and it was at moments like this when he wondered if he too often forgot that despite appearances, Minerva was far more delicate than she let on. He placed such an unfair burden upon her shoulders, he left her wondering what had happened to him and if he would ever return for days at a time, on top of her natural compassion for all those whom she taught and the automatic anxiety that that resulted in at times such as these. He wished he could say that she would have been better off without him, and if they had never met then perhaps that would have been true, but even when their friendship had been in it’s earliest stage, Albus Dumbledore had known that it was too late to break the bonds of friendship and love that had already grown between them.
Sighing and shaking himself to rid his tired mind of these thoughts, Albus removed his outer robe and toed off his boots before rounding the bed and carefully climbing into the other side. He waited for his wife to roll over once more and settle against him before summoning the covers up around them both.
“Alb…” Minerva murmured a few minutes later.
“Yes, my dear, I’m here.” he responded, stroking her back gently as she shifted even closer towards him. “Happy Birthday love. Now you just go back to sleep.” he continued, suspecting that she had never really woken in the first place.
The only response he received was a contented sigh, after which his wife seemed to relax in his embrace. He laid a gentle kiss ontop of her head and settled down in an attempt to find some rest himself. For all Albus tried though, it was many hours before he drifted off into a light sleep.
Minerva McGonagall did not enjoy waking up from drugged sleep. It was like fighting ones way through warm treacle and for someone who usually woke abruptly it was a most disturbing sensation. Her previous experience with Dreamless Sleep, though limited, had left her familiar with the sensation of repressed dreams that washed over her on awaking. As her eyes flickered open, she was struck by an odd recollection of Albus holding her against his chest, her head tucked beneath his chin and his voice calm and reassuring in her ear. However, it had obviously been nothing more than a dream as once more she had woken alone. Rolling over, readying herself to get up, shower and face the day she spotted something on the bedside table that made her question that fact. There, perched on top of the book she had spent so many midnight hours of late reading, sat a lonesome fairy cake. The stump of a candle stuck into the icing, surrounded by a pool of melted wax. She smiled, this small, dried out confection somehow leaving her certain that this day would be better than the last.
