Post by avadagypsy on Aug 30, 2006 1:48:52 GMT -5
Title: The Modesty of a Gryffindor
Authors Note: Well looky at that! I actually wrote it! Who would've thought?
Rating: Um I dunno. PG-13?
Disclaimer: It's all Jo's, although I am sure that she would never endeavour to put Albus in a Play Witch spread
. Even so, I'm just borrowing an will return all charcters (relatively) unharmed.
-----
Minerva McGonagall coughed slightly as a cloud of dust rose from the stack of overly heavy books that she had dropped unceremoniously to the floor. Albus was not wrong when he had advised her two weeks earlier not to buy him books for Christmas – he certainly had plenty enough to keep him reading for now, and well into the next life.
With a thump, two more heavy volumes (‘A Comprehensive Study of Gurgling Glinkle Gurps’ and ‘Help! I’ve Transfigured Her Toenails!’) joined the haphazard pile on the floor by her feet, and Minerva wiped away a bead of sweat that was trickling down her forehead – a testament to how physically demanding this work was. It was infact, snowing outside – and Christmas Eve was upon them.
Indeed. Christmas Eve. And much to her chagrin, she was here, by herself, compulsively cleaning Albus Dumbledore’s office. Of course, he didn’t ask her to do so, but three hours ago he had rushed from the castle after receiving an urgent owl from the Ministry and left Minerva with the company of only a disgruntled looking phoenix and a room full of snoring portraits. After about ten minutes of impatiently staring around at the chaos that Albus had left his rooms in, she had resorted to the best type of therapy she knew. Cleaning. And not just waving her wand and casting a “scourgify”. No. She was on her hands and knees scrubbing the wooden floors, fiercely polishing the many medals and trophies and ornaments that were placed strategically around the room, sorting jumbled paperwork and studiously reorganizing the small library that he called a bookcase. His office was, afterall, one of the most disorganized and cluttered places she had even seen in her life – and if she did this now, they would have the whole of the Christmas holidays to spend together. No interruptions. Hopefully.
There was brief pause in her work as she stopped to examine the cover of a particularly sinister looking volume entitled ‘1000 Ways to Make it Look Like and Accident’ before making a mental note to question Albus about his intentions in keeping this book in his office. She smiled softly at the thought of his uncomfortable expression as he would attempt to sputter out an acceptable and comprehensible answer. Minerva McGonagall was fairly sure that she was the only woman in this great wide world that could make Albus Dumbledore squirm like that, and secretly she relished the power that she had over him. Whilst she was not the type to abuse that kind of influence, there were times when it was necessary – when with just a kiss, or soft caress, he was like putty in her hands. Truthfully though, he held the same sort of power over her too, so it was all fair in the end.
Minerva felt a warm blush creeping up her cheeks at the thought of the man - only three months ago had their friendship evolved into something more. Honestly, it had seemed the most natural thing in the world when he had leaned over his desk as they worked late one night, and pressed a soft kiss to her lips, leaving her breathless and tingling from head to toe. Three weeks after that incident, during which time they had stolen the odd clandestine kiss behind closed doors and spent evenings murmuring secrets to each other by his fireplace, Albus had unexpectedly taken her hand under the table during dinner in the Great Hall, and whispered discreetly in her ear “I have to admit, I’ve fallen in love with you Minerva.” She had blushed furiously and whispered something of the same effect back to him, leaving them both smiling like idiots for the rest of the meal.
Since that time, their relationship had progressed – slowly but comfortably. Certainly, they had not made love yet, but the sensations and emotions that Albus Dumbledore was able to evoke in her merely with a kiss to her bare skin and a caress of the hand left Minerva in that mind that he would most certainly be, amongst other things, a very considerate lover. In fact, although making love for the first time on Christmas Eve was very much a cliché, she had hoped that tonight they would endeavor to take their relationship to the next level, without the concern of interfering colleagues or unruly students. Hence, her insatiable frustration at having been left here alone whilst Albus was off fixing the blunders of an incompetent Minister for Magic.
With that thought, she pulled another pile of books from the shelf with a little more ferocity than she had at first intended, and ten or so heavy publications tumbled to the hardwood floor, one landing quite heavily on her toe.
Swearing under her breath, she bent to recover the scattered volumes from the floor, when something caught her eye. Amongst the jumble of leather book covers and yellowing pages, lay a shiny magazine, with bold red lettering emblazoning the front, which read “Play Witch Magazine”. Frowning slightly, Minerva moved to pick up the magazine, and examined the cover. The date on the front indicated that is was around five years old, and various subtitles proclaimed things like ‘The Secrets of Men: What Your Wizard Really Wants’ and ‘Hogsmeade’s Hottest Hunks’, but what really caught her eye was the cover picture of a very familiar, tall, auburn haired wizard, with a long beard and wearing periwinkle blue robes that were gaping open at the chest revealing a toned, muscular body. Albus.
Gasping softly and clasping a hand over her mouth, Minerva read the accompanying subtitle: ‘Albus Dumbledore: The World’s Most Powerful Wizard Reveals All’.
Wide-eyed, she thumbed quickly through the magazine, searching for the associated article, barely paying recognition to the various pictures of scantily clad and admittedly attractive wizards plastering the pages.
Finally she reached the centerfold of the publication and shook her head in utmost disbelief. The page had folded out to reveal a full length picture of Albus Dumbledore, her Albus Dumbledore, leaning against a large oak writing desk, and wearing nothing but a bright red and gold Gryffindor banner wrapped precariously around his waist. She watched, dumbstruck, as the Albus in the picture smiled and waved shyly out at her, his eyes twinkling madly until he suddenly seemed to lose grip of the banner and moved quickly to retrieve it before more sensitive areas of his anatomy were revealed. She saw a red tinge appear in the cheeks of the Albus in the picture, before he continued with his smiling and waving.
The ‘photograph Albus’ had just settled himself comfortably on the edge of the desk and had started flexing his biceps when a commotion by the fireplace pulled Minerva out of her state of shocked disbelief. Slipping the offending magazine quickly into the inner pockets of her robes she turned just in time to see Albus, the real Albus, tumble out of a barrage of green flames in the fireplace.
She watched, a little flustered, as he dusted himself off and smiled broadly at the realization that she was waiting for him. Moving forward toward her, he quickly wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her in for a warm kiss before whispering close to her ear.
“I’m sorry I was so long gone,” he murmured, his warm breath caressing her earlobe, “the Minister was very adamant about my assistance,” a pause here, as he kissed her once more, “I couldn’t stop thinking about you all evening, though.”
“I understand, Albus,” she replied smiling softly, “don’t worry, I kept myself amused,”
“Ah, so I see,” he responded, glancing around the room, at the tidy desk and gleaming surfaces, “you’ve been cleaning!” she nodded here as he continued, “Thankyou, my dear. Although I must admit I do prefer to keep my vast literary collection on the shelves of my bookcase. As interesting as it is to have them scattered over the floor…” His last comments were made with a cheeky smile, and fiendish glee in his voice, and she slapped his chest playfully before responding.
“Yes, well, I haven’t finished have I? You’ve been home two seconds and already you’re driving me to distraction,” she moved away from him, smiling gleefully as she walked towards the pile of scattered books on the floor but he quickly grasped her arm and pulled her back to his chest.
“No, leave that. It’s Christmas - I want you all to myself tonight,” he whispered huskily.
“Really?” she asked, raising her eyebrows slightly, and quickly deciding to have a little bit of fun with him “Well, in that case, I have something to show you.”
Albus watched in wide eyed anticipation as Minerva reached a hand to the inner pocket of her robes, and a look of slight disappointment flashed in his eyes as she merely retrieved a rolled up magazine and handed it to him.
“What’s this?” he asked suspiciously, taking it from her.
She did not reply but merely nodded toward the publication, indicating that he should unfurl it. He did so, and she watched in great glee as a look of utmost horror spread over his features. His hands trembled slightly as he examined the front cover of the Play Witch Magazine, and he finally looked up at her wide-eyed, almost fearful.
“W-where did you find this?” he managed to utter. His eyes searched hers desperately, seeking some sort of reaction on her part, but he couldn’t read her. Her features were calm, and her lips pursed only slightly.
“Bookshelf,” she answered simply, not dropping his gaze.
“Ah – I – I see, and um…” he trailed off, unnerved by her unwavering eye contact. She merely tilted her head to the side, as if waiting for him to continue with his explanation.
“I - ah - it was years ago….for charity, you see…St. Mungos and, ah…”
She nodded thoughtfully, her expression still unreadable. There was silence for a moment as he watched her warily, waiting for a reaction, for her to yell. To berate him for resorting to such methods when he could easily make a generous donation to any charity from his excessive amounts of gold in Gringott’s. Finally she spoke.
“I think,” she said quietly, moving towards him so that he backed up against his desk, “that I would…” she was nose to nose with him now, and he feared that she might have the potential to add yet another break to his crooked appendage, “…most certainly like to have you model that Gryffindor banner for me one day, if you would consent of course.”
He stared at her for a moment, dumbfounded, before she pressed a heated kiss to the bare skin of his neck.
“Y-you what?” he asked, blinking stupidly.
“You heard me,” she responded, a glorious smile spreading over her lips.
“You’re not angry then?” he asked, still gazing at her in disbelief. She shook her head softly.
“Intrigued, but no, not angry.”
Her lips met his again, and he reveled in her passionate embrace. Her hands splayed themselves over his firm chest as he murmured against her lips.
“I love you so much,”
“I love you more,” she quipped back.
“Well, I would be most happy to oblige your request,” he stated, puffing his chest out importantly, “however…” he pulled his wand out and flicked it toward her faster than she could blink, “I think the red and gold suits your complexion much more becomingly.”
Minerva looked down at herself, and quickly realized that Albus had transfigured her robes into a red and gold banner, very similar to the one in his picture. The thin material was wrapped tightly around her body and barely fell to the tops of her thighs, leaving her long legs and creamy shoulders bare. A hand flew swiftly to her chest, in order to hold the banner in place, and she glared at him, half amused, half horrified.
“Albus?” she uttered, unsure of what she was questioning him about.
“Ah, just as I suspected,” he murmured softly, “beautiful…”
His lips were on hers once more, and her mind was thrown into a jumble of half-formed questions and unresolved desires. Her body pressed itself against his chest and she melted into his arms, as he moved his mouth to her ear.
“Stay with me tonight,” he whispered simply.
“I thought you’d never ask,” she smiled, her voice a little husky with the remnants of his passionate kiss.
Without another word, Albus gathered a giggling Minerva in his arms, and carried her towards his private rooms, the corner of the Gryffindor emblazoned banner trailing behind them.
It was three whole days before either of them emerged from Albus’ private rooms, and if anyone were to enter his office during that time, it would be to find the room completely deserted, but for a pile of heavy books scattered across the floor, and an open magazine upon the large oak desk, displaying a rather risqué picture of the Headmaster himself. And if anyone should happen to stumble across this scene in those three days, it is certain that they would be very surprised to find that the Albus Dumbledore in said picture, had somehow lost the only garment that had been maintaining his modesty.
And bless his soul, he was smiling like man in love.
Finite.
Authors Note: Well looky at that! I actually wrote it! Who would've thought?
Rating: Um I dunno. PG-13?
Disclaimer: It's all Jo's, although I am sure that she would never endeavour to put Albus in a Play Witch spread
. Even so, I'm just borrowing an will return all charcters (relatively) unharmed.-----
Minerva McGonagall coughed slightly as a cloud of dust rose from the stack of overly heavy books that she had dropped unceremoniously to the floor. Albus was not wrong when he had advised her two weeks earlier not to buy him books for Christmas – he certainly had plenty enough to keep him reading for now, and well into the next life.
With a thump, two more heavy volumes (‘A Comprehensive Study of Gurgling Glinkle Gurps’ and ‘Help! I’ve Transfigured Her Toenails!’) joined the haphazard pile on the floor by her feet, and Minerva wiped away a bead of sweat that was trickling down her forehead – a testament to how physically demanding this work was. It was infact, snowing outside – and Christmas Eve was upon them.
Indeed. Christmas Eve. And much to her chagrin, she was here, by herself, compulsively cleaning Albus Dumbledore’s office. Of course, he didn’t ask her to do so, but three hours ago he had rushed from the castle after receiving an urgent owl from the Ministry and left Minerva with the company of only a disgruntled looking phoenix and a room full of snoring portraits. After about ten minutes of impatiently staring around at the chaos that Albus had left his rooms in, she had resorted to the best type of therapy she knew. Cleaning. And not just waving her wand and casting a “scourgify”. No. She was on her hands and knees scrubbing the wooden floors, fiercely polishing the many medals and trophies and ornaments that were placed strategically around the room, sorting jumbled paperwork and studiously reorganizing the small library that he called a bookcase. His office was, afterall, one of the most disorganized and cluttered places she had even seen in her life – and if she did this now, they would have the whole of the Christmas holidays to spend together. No interruptions. Hopefully.
There was brief pause in her work as she stopped to examine the cover of a particularly sinister looking volume entitled ‘1000 Ways to Make it Look Like and Accident’ before making a mental note to question Albus about his intentions in keeping this book in his office. She smiled softly at the thought of his uncomfortable expression as he would attempt to sputter out an acceptable and comprehensible answer. Minerva McGonagall was fairly sure that she was the only woman in this great wide world that could make Albus Dumbledore squirm like that, and secretly she relished the power that she had over him. Whilst she was not the type to abuse that kind of influence, there were times when it was necessary – when with just a kiss, or soft caress, he was like putty in her hands. Truthfully though, he held the same sort of power over her too, so it was all fair in the end.
Minerva felt a warm blush creeping up her cheeks at the thought of the man - only three months ago had their friendship evolved into something more. Honestly, it had seemed the most natural thing in the world when he had leaned over his desk as they worked late one night, and pressed a soft kiss to her lips, leaving her breathless and tingling from head to toe. Three weeks after that incident, during which time they had stolen the odd clandestine kiss behind closed doors and spent evenings murmuring secrets to each other by his fireplace, Albus had unexpectedly taken her hand under the table during dinner in the Great Hall, and whispered discreetly in her ear “I have to admit, I’ve fallen in love with you Minerva.” She had blushed furiously and whispered something of the same effect back to him, leaving them both smiling like idiots for the rest of the meal.
Since that time, their relationship had progressed – slowly but comfortably. Certainly, they had not made love yet, but the sensations and emotions that Albus Dumbledore was able to evoke in her merely with a kiss to her bare skin and a caress of the hand left Minerva in that mind that he would most certainly be, amongst other things, a very considerate lover. In fact, although making love for the first time on Christmas Eve was very much a cliché, she had hoped that tonight they would endeavor to take their relationship to the next level, without the concern of interfering colleagues or unruly students. Hence, her insatiable frustration at having been left here alone whilst Albus was off fixing the blunders of an incompetent Minister for Magic.
With that thought, she pulled another pile of books from the shelf with a little more ferocity than she had at first intended, and ten or so heavy publications tumbled to the hardwood floor, one landing quite heavily on her toe.
Swearing under her breath, she bent to recover the scattered volumes from the floor, when something caught her eye. Amongst the jumble of leather book covers and yellowing pages, lay a shiny magazine, with bold red lettering emblazoning the front, which read “Play Witch Magazine”. Frowning slightly, Minerva moved to pick up the magazine, and examined the cover. The date on the front indicated that is was around five years old, and various subtitles proclaimed things like ‘The Secrets of Men: What Your Wizard Really Wants’ and ‘Hogsmeade’s Hottest Hunks’, but what really caught her eye was the cover picture of a very familiar, tall, auburn haired wizard, with a long beard and wearing periwinkle blue robes that were gaping open at the chest revealing a toned, muscular body. Albus.
Gasping softly and clasping a hand over her mouth, Minerva read the accompanying subtitle: ‘Albus Dumbledore: The World’s Most Powerful Wizard Reveals All’.
Wide-eyed, she thumbed quickly through the magazine, searching for the associated article, barely paying recognition to the various pictures of scantily clad and admittedly attractive wizards plastering the pages.
Finally she reached the centerfold of the publication and shook her head in utmost disbelief. The page had folded out to reveal a full length picture of Albus Dumbledore, her Albus Dumbledore, leaning against a large oak writing desk, and wearing nothing but a bright red and gold Gryffindor banner wrapped precariously around his waist. She watched, dumbstruck, as the Albus in the picture smiled and waved shyly out at her, his eyes twinkling madly until he suddenly seemed to lose grip of the banner and moved quickly to retrieve it before more sensitive areas of his anatomy were revealed. She saw a red tinge appear in the cheeks of the Albus in the picture, before he continued with his smiling and waving.
The ‘photograph Albus’ had just settled himself comfortably on the edge of the desk and had started flexing his biceps when a commotion by the fireplace pulled Minerva out of her state of shocked disbelief. Slipping the offending magazine quickly into the inner pockets of her robes she turned just in time to see Albus, the real Albus, tumble out of a barrage of green flames in the fireplace.
She watched, a little flustered, as he dusted himself off and smiled broadly at the realization that she was waiting for him. Moving forward toward her, he quickly wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her in for a warm kiss before whispering close to her ear.
“I’m sorry I was so long gone,” he murmured, his warm breath caressing her earlobe, “the Minister was very adamant about my assistance,” a pause here, as he kissed her once more, “I couldn’t stop thinking about you all evening, though.”
“I understand, Albus,” she replied smiling softly, “don’t worry, I kept myself amused,”
“Ah, so I see,” he responded, glancing around the room, at the tidy desk and gleaming surfaces, “you’ve been cleaning!” she nodded here as he continued, “Thankyou, my dear. Although I must admit I do prefer to keep my vast literary collection on the shelves of my bookcase. As interesting as it is to have them scattered over the floor…” His last comments were made with a cheeky smile, and fiendish glee in his voice, and she slapped his chest playfully before responding.
“Yes, well, I haven’t finished have I? You’ve been home two seconds and already you’re driving me to distraction,” she moved away from him, smiling gleefully as she walked towards the pile of scattered books on the floor but he quickly grasped her arm and pulled her back to his chest.
“No, leave that. It’s Christmas - I want you all to myself tonight,” he whispered huskily.
“Really?” she asked, raising her eyebrows slightly, and quickly deciding to have a little bit of fun with him “Well, in that case, I have something to show you.”
Albus watched in wide eyed anticipation as Minerva reached a hand to the inner pocket of her robes, and a look of slight disappointment flashed in his eyes as she merely retrieved a rolled up magazine and handed it to him.
“What’s this?” he asked suspiciously, taking it from her.
She did not reply but merely nodded toward the publication, indicating that he should unfurl it. He did so, and she watched in great glee as a look of utmost horror spread over his features. His hands trembled slightly as he examined the front cover of the Play Witch Magazine, and he finally looked up at her wide-eyed, almost fearful.
“W-where did you find this?” he managed to utter. His eyes searched hers desperately, seeking some sort of reaction on her part, but he couldn’t read her. Her features were calm, and her lips pursed only slightly.
“Bookshelf,” she answered simply, not dropping his gaze.
“Ah – I – I see, and um…” he trailed off, unnerved by her unwavering eye contact. She merely tilted her head to the side, as if waiting for him to continue with his explanation.
“I - ah - it was years ago….for charity, you see…St. Mungos and, ah…”
She nodded thoughtfully, her expression still unreadable. There was silence for a moment as he watched her warily, waiting for a reaction, for her to yell. To berate him for resorting to such methods when he could easily make a generous donation to any charity from his excessive amounts of gold in Gringott’s. Finally she spoke.
“I think,” she said quietly, moving towards him so that he backed up against his desk, “that I would…” she was nose to nose with him now, and he feared that she might have the potential to add yet another break to his crooked appendage, “…most certainly like to have you model that Gryffindor banner for me one day, if you would consent of course.”
He stared at her for a moment, dumbfounded, before she pressed a heated kiss to the bare skin of his neck.
“Y-you what?” he asked, blinking stupidly.
“You heard me,” she responded, a glorious smile spreading over her lips.
“You’re not angry then?” he asked, still gazing at her in disbelief. She shook her head softly.
“Intrigued, but no, not angry.”
Her lips met his again, and he reveled in her passionate embrace. Her hands splayed themselves over his firm chest as he murmured against her lips.
“I love you so much,”
“I love you more,” she quipped back.
“Well, I would be most happy to oblige your request,” he stated, puffing his chest out importantly, “however…” he pulled his wand out and flicked it toward her faster than she could blink, “I think the red and gold suits your complexion much more becomingly.”
Minerva looked down at herself, and quickly realized that Albus had transfigured her robes into a red and gold banner, very similar to the one in his picture. The thin material was wrapped tightly around her body and barely fell to the tops of her thighs, leaving her long legs and creamy shoulders bare. A hand flew swiftly to her chest, in order to hold the banner in place, and she glared at him, half amused, half horrified.
“Albus?” she uttered, unsure of what she was questioning him about.
“Ah, just as I suspected,” he murmured softly, “beautiful…”
His lips were on hers once more, and her mind was thrown into a jumble of half-formed questions and unresolved desires. Her body pressed itself against his chest and she melted into his arms, as he moved his mouth to her ear.
“Stay with me tonight,” he whispered simply.
“I thought you’d never ask,” she smiled, her voice a little husky with the remnants of his passionate kiss.
Without another word, Albus gathered a giggling Minerva in his arms, and carried her towards his private rooms, the corner of the Gryffindor emblazoned banner trailing behind them.
It was three whole days before either of them emerged from Albus’ private rooms, and if anyone were to enter his office during that time, it would be to find the room completely deserted, but for a pile of heavy books scattered across the floor, and an open magazine upon the large oak desk, displaying a rather risqué picture of the Headmaster himself. And if anyone should happen to stumble across this scene in those three days, it is certain that they would be very surprised to find that the Albus Dumbledore in said picture, had somehow lost the only garment that had been maintaining his modesty.
And bless his soul, he was smiling like man in love.
Finite.
