Post by jayejaye on Mar 2, 2007 17:09:11 GMT -5
The Holiday
Disclaimer: last time I looked I was not JKR.
My first Challenge Tag entry, I hope you like...
Albus Dumbledore stared sadly at the witch in front of him. She sat slumped forward over her cluttered desk, raven hair falling haphazardly from her bun. Albus had woken to a cold empty bed at four AM and had set off in search of his precious Tabby. Eventually, Albus had found her in the transfiguration classroom sleeping fitfully, surrounded by fourth year essays on the theory of animal transfiguration.
As Albus gently caressed her back, a groaning Minerva attempted to sit upright, but was stopped by the screaming of her taught muscles. Seeing the love of his life in pain broke Albus’ heart; tenderly he began to knead her hunched shoulders and gasped loudly at the tension he found there.
“Minerva, my dear. You are entirely too tense. You need to relax……would you like a sherbet lemon?”
Minerva fixed Albus with a piercing glare that would have made lesser men quake with fear, as it was Albus felt decidedly uncomfortable.
“Relax? Relax, Albus…..when, pray tell, do you suppose I have time to relax? When for instance do you suppose I should prepare the figures for the budget meeting with the governors? When do you suppose the students essays would be marked if I relaxed hmmm? I would love to RELAX Albus, but when?”
Albus shifted uncomfortably, oh dear, why had he mentioned sherbet lemons? ‘Think before you speak old man,’ it is hazardous to ones health not to where Minerva McGonagall was concerned.
“If I were to relax Albus, who do you suppose would get things done? Who, for instance, would prepare the minutes for the Orders last meeting? Who would prepare the agenda for the next staff meeting? Who would conduct the interviews for the new house elves? Who will order the quills, the candles, the owl treats?”
Abruptly Minerva dropped back down into her seat, placing her head in her hands. Albus guiltily saw her shoulders begin to tremble and strangled sobs escape her lips. Albus’ cheeks burned with shame as he gazed at his love. They had been in love for many years and had lived practically as man and wife for nearly as long. How had he come to take her for granted so? ‘Well not anymore’ he thought firmly to himself…. ‘Minerva will not run herself into the ground for me again.’ But how to make it up to her? Drawing Minerva close Albus whispered softly into her hair as she allowed him to lead her, still sobbing silently, to their rooms.
“I’m so, so sorry my love. I should have seen how tired you were becoming. Can you forgive a blind old fool Minerva?”
As Albus pulled the deep crimson bedspread around them, Minerva curled next to him, burying her face into the crook of his neck.
“Always Albus, always.”
----------
Albus had lain awake for the remainder of the night. Initially it had been guilt and worry for his beloved Minerva that had prevented sleep, but as the sunrise signalled the dawn of a new day Albus had hatched a plan to ensure Minerva some respite from her hectic life…They would go on holiday.
Throughout the day Albus met with his other heads of house. Pomona Sprout had agreed to deputise for him and Minerva, as well as permanently taking on responsibility for ordering supplies. Fillius had gladly taken on responsibility for the budget meeting, as well as organisation of all future staff meetings. Rolanda had been reluctantly recruited to watch over Minerva’s cubs in their absence, Albus had every confidence in her…at least, he thought he did…Oh Merlin, would he live to regret that? As the most sensible person he knew, Albus had asked Poppy to handle the interviews and as an afterthought asked her to keep a discrete eye on Rolanda…not that he was regretting his decision already. A quick owl to Alastor asking him to cover Minerva’s order duties and he was done.
Knowing that they would only be able to leave their responsibilities in the wizarding world for a weekend, Albus took great pains to ensure everything was ready for their departure as soon as Minerva finished teaching. With their belongings shrunk and stored in his pockets Albus led a very confused Minerva to the imposing iron gates of Hogwarts.
“Where are we going Albus? I really don’t have time for games tonight.”
“Minerva. My dear, I have neglected you shamefully over the last few months and failed to recognise how far you have been pushing yourself. So, for this weekend at least, our friends and colleagues will just have to manage, while I make sure you have the weekend you deserve…”
Albus placed a finger over her ruby lips
“No buts, my precious Tabby, I know this doesn’t make up for my behaviour, but…”
Laughing Minerva reached up and kissed the tip of his crooked nose.
“I was merely going to ask where we are going…I can’t very well apparate otherwise now can I?”
His cobalt blue eyes gleaming at her smile, Albus countered, “We are going by portkey….to a small island in the English Channel…near France.”
Producing a curved seashell from the pocket of his muggle jeans, Albus grinned and placed it in his open hand. As Minerva gently rested her hand atop his own, he felt the familiar tug somewhere near his middle.
They landed gracefully on a golden sandy beach.
“Well here we are my dear…on la Greve d’Azette.”
The beach seemed to stretch for miles, at one end stood wild rugged rocks and at the other a small boardwalk. Taking his love by her hand, Albus pulled her along the sand toward the granite outcrop.
“Well my dear, what do you think?”
Minerva’s face brightened as she regarded the small white walled cottage, its pale blue door opening directly onto the beach. Albus’ heart soared as she visibly relaxed, leaning back against his chest with a contented sigh.
“It’s perfect Albus.”
Seeing Minerva stifle a yawn Albus hoisted her into his arms, grinning wolfishly he carried her toward the old fisherman’s cottage.
“Early night, my love?”
----------
The next morning Minerva was awoken by the warmth of the morning sun and the sound of gentle waves lapping at the shore. She lay, relishing the feel of Albus’ strong arms surrounding her in a warm embrace. Albus snored softly as his hands absently roamed up and down her sides. She couldn’t help the smirk that found its way to her lips.
“I do, of course, know that you’re awake, Albus.”
Turning and snuggling into his arms she was met with azure blue orbs, wide with feigned innocence.
“So, what are we going to do today, Albus?”
“Do you remember Minerva, when we spent the day with the students in muggle Oxford? Well, you seemed to enjoy those…those.. bicycle things so much I thought we could use them to explore.”
Several hours later they found themselves in a very different landscape. Gone was the gentle slope of the sandy beach. They stood surrounded by a stone ruin, braced against a howling wind as it whipped up and over the jagged cliffs. Minerva peered through a grey archway out across the foaming sea.
“Gronez castle, built to defend the island’s north coast.”
Albus read from the guidebook, while rubbing his knee gingerly. Minerva laughed as she leaned down to kiss the grazed skin tenderly. Albus had found it most difficult remembering how to balance on the bicycle. He was feeling rather pleased with himself when he had managed half an hour without one wobble. ‘Just goes to show, pride before a fall,’ he thought ruefully. Somehow his beard had become tangled in the wheel and he had found himself kneeling in a very prickly gorse bush. Minerva had been unable to breathe for laughing as Albus vowed never to visit the Devils Hole again.
By early evening both Albus and Minerva were very, very hungry. As they rounded a corner they happened upon a small pebbled beach. Nestled in a patch of verdant woodland overlooking the beach was a country pub.
“Time for dinner, would you agree my dear?”
Nodding Minerva led the way into the cosy bar. The low ceilings and roaring fire gave the Smugglers Inn a very intimate feel. They dined on a traditional local meal called ‘bean crock’ (which seemed to Albus to be bean casserole with sausages) with bread wrapped in cabbage leaves. The local drink of apple cider washed the meal down rather well. Minerva’s cheeks were rosy and she was giggling in a most uncharacteristic manner at Albus, who had joined the barkeeper in singing old sea shanties.
As the sun drew ever closer to the horizon, it became apparent that getting the bicycles back to the cottage would be a difficult task. Albus and Minerva gratefully accepted the short, grey-haired barkeeper’s offer of a lift home in his van. An hour later they were curled on a blanket, watching the last of the sun’s rays cast an amber light across the water in front of the cottage. Minerva had surreptitiously used her wand to light a small fire to warm the now crisp air. Albus, his crooked nose buried in a local history book, chuckled.
“The barman, Mr Le Bihan….. His name means Mr Small…how appropriate.”
On getting no reply, Albus glanced to the witch resting her head on his knee. Her slow, shallow breathing told him she was already asleep.
“Goodnight my darling,” Albus whispered, as he gently wrapped her in the tartan blanket. Placing a gentle kiss to her forehead Albus carried her carefully into the cottage.
----------
The next morning, Albus was awoken by the aroma of frying bacon. Padding through to the kitchen he found Minerva, wrapped in his purple dressing gown, busily making pancakes. Snaking his arms around her slim waist and resting his chin on her shoulder, he kissed her neck lightly.
“Hey, I was going to make you breakfast.”
“Oh Albus, you looked so cute laying there in that mauve nightcap, that I didn’t have the heart to wake you…and I was hungry.”
Her stomach growled as if to emphasize her point.
“Now sit.”
After enjoying a breakfast of pancakes and bacon, the addition of half a bottle of syrup earned Albus a pointed stare, Minerva tapped the front of the guidebook.
“Let’s go here today. I’ve checked the tide times and its low tide so we can walk out to it. If the tide is high when it’s time to leave the muggles have ingenious cars that turn into boats to get them back to dry land.”
‘Elizabeth Castle’ Albus read. ‘In the centre of a large bay, used to defend the island against the Normans and later the Germans in world war two.’
“Why not, my dear."
In no time they were strolling hand in hand along the causeway out to the castle. They had removed their shoes to paddle in the green rock pools along the way. Albus hastily replaced his, after a rather large crab appeared to be following him, snapping its claws in the direction of his toes. Minerva had teased him mercilessly for being afraid of a crab as they explored the castle and its small museum. When she continued on the ride back to shore in the boat/car, Albus, who could take no more, reached into the water and scooped up a handful of the salty liquid, unceremoniously dumping it on her head. Squealing loudly Minerva reached into the cool blue green sea and sprayed Albus with two handfuls. They continued for some minutes until, now distinctly damp, they collapsed in a fit of childish giggles. Several muggles, who sat near them, glared disapprovingly at the elderly couple behaving like a pair of teenagers.
After hiding behind a large rock to apply quick drying charms, the couple ambled along the boardwalk searching for a restaurant. Resting her head on Albus’ shoulder, Minerva spotted one with a sign stating that they specialised in seafood.
“Nelsons Eye, this looks good Albus. You could take your revenge on that crab from earlier.”
Rolling his twinkling blue eyes, Albus pulled out a chair for Minerva.
“Would you care to take a seat, my lady?”
Blushing slightly Minerva slid onto the chair and gazed out across the ocean. From their table outside the restaurant they had a view of the whole bay right out to the uninhabited reef towards the coast of France.
“Isn’t it beautiful Albus?” she sighed.
“Not half as beautiful as you, my dear Tabby.”
Hot tears sprung to Minerva’s eyes and they shone in the evening light.
They sat in companionable silence sharing a freshly caught seafood platter (a Fruit de Mer) and a bottle of chilled Muscadet wine. Secretly Albus hoped that the claw he was attempting to pry open did indeed belong to that aggressive crustatian from earlier.
After paying for their meal they took the short stroll back to their cottage.
“Thank you Albus.”
Her voice barely audible, Albus was unsure if Minerva had actually spoken.
“I’m sorry my dear?”
“For all of this Albus, thank you.”
Enveloping her in his arms, Albus sighed deeply.
“It is I who should be thanking you Minerva. Without you I am hopeless; you complete me. I love you with all my heart and I will never, never forgive myself for treating you so badly these past few months. I give you my word that from now on things will be different. I will not allow you to work yourself to death for me, you are entirely too precious.”
Albus felt Minerva’s tears dampen his beard as she clung to him fiercely. Her voice cracked as she spoke.
“I love you too Albus…so much that I would gladly work myself to death for you.”
Albus’ own tears coursed down his face and mingled in his beard with Minerva’s. It seemed like an age that they stood embracing one another tightly, both unwilling to ever let go.
“Alas, my dear Tabby, we must.”
With a wave of his wand their luggage was packed and shrunk once more, taking the shell that would return them to Hogwarts, Albus placed a loving kiss to her velvety soft lips. As she grasped the shell and he felt that familiar tug, Albus made a silent promise to never again take the keeper of his heart for granted.
Disclaimer: last time I looked I was not JKR.
My first Challenge Tag entry, I hope you like...
Albus Dumbledore stared sadly at the witch in front of him. She sat slumped forward over her cluttered desk, raven hair falling haphazardly from her bun. Albus had woken to a cold empty bed at four AM and had set off in search of his precious Tabby. Eventually, Albus had found her in the transfiguration classroom sleeping fitfully, surrounded by fourth year essays on the theory of animal transfiguration.
As Albus gently caressed her back, a groaning Minerva attempted to sit upright, but was stopped by the screaming of her taught muscles. Seeing the love of his life in pain broke Albus’ heart; tenderly he began to knead her hunched shoulders and gasped loudly at the tension he found there.
“Minerva, my dear. You are entirely too tense. You need to relax……would you like a sherbet lemon?”
Minerva fixed Albus with a piercing glare that would have made lesser men quake with fear, as it was Albus felt decidedly uncomfortable.
“Relax? Relax, Albus…..when, pray tell, do you suppose I have time to relax? When for instance do you suppose I should prepare the figures for the budget meeting with the governors? When do you suppose the students essays would be marked if I relaxed hmmm? I would love to RELAX Albus, but when?”
Albus shifted uncomfortably, oh dear, why had he mentioned sherbet lemons? ‘Think before you speak old man,’ it is hazardous to ones health not to where Minerva McGonagall was concerned.
“If I were to relax Albus, who do you suppose would get things done? Who, for instance, would prepare the minutes for the Orders last meeting? Who would prepare the agenda for the next staff meeting? Who would conduct the interviews for the new house elves? Who will order the quills, the candles, the owl treats?”
Abruptly Minerva dropped back down into her seat, placing her head in her hands. Albus guiltily saw her shoulders begin to tremble and strangled sobs escape her lips. Albus’ cheeks burned with shame as he gazed at his love. They had been in love for many years and had lived practically as man and wife for nearly as long. How had he come to take her for granted so? ‘Well not anymore’ he thought firmly to himself…. ‘Minerva will not run herself into the ground for me again.’ But how to make it up to her? Drawing Minerva close Albus whispered softly into her hair as she allowed him to lead her, still sobbing silently, to their rooms.
“I’m so, so sorry my love. I should have seen how tired you were becoming. Can you forgive a blind old fool Minerva?”
As Albus pulled the deep crimson bedspread around them, Minerva curled next to him, burying her face into the crook of his neck.
“Always Albus, always.”
----------
Albus had lain awake for the remainder of the night. Initially it had been guilt and worry for his beloved Minerva that had prevented sleep, but as the sunrise signalled the dawn of a new day Albus had hatched a plan to ensure Minerva some respite from her hectic life…They would go on holiday.
Throughout the day Albus met with his other heads of house. Pomona Sprout had agreed to deputise for him and Minerva, as well as permanently taking on responsibility for ordering supplies. Fillius had gladly taken on responsibility for the budget meeting, as well as organisation of all future staff meetings. Rolanda had been reluctantly recruited to watch over Minerva’s cubs in their absence, Albus had every confidence in her…at least, he thought he did…Oh Merlin, would he live to regret that? As the most sensible person he knew, Albus had asked Poppy to handle the interviews and as an afterthought asked her to keep a discrete eye on Rolanda…not that he was regretting his decision already. A quick owl to Alastor asking him to cover Minerva’s order duties and he was done.
Knowing that they would only be able to leave their responsibilities in the wizarding world for a weekend, Albus took great pains to ensure everything was ready for their departure as soon as Minerva finished teaching. With their belongings shrunk and stored in his pockets Albus led a very confused Minerva to the imposing iron gates of Hogwarts.
“Where are we going Albus? I really don’t have time for games tonight.”
“Minerva. My dear, I have neglected you shamefully over the last few months and failed to recognise how far you have been pushing yourself. So, for this weekend at least, our friends and colleagues will just have to manage, while I make sure you have the weekend you deserve…”
Albus placed a finger over her ruby lips
“No buts, my precious Tabby, I know this doesn’t make up for my behaviour, but…”
Laughing Minerva reached up and kissed the tip of his crooked nose.
“I was merely going to ask where we are going…I can’t very well apparate otherwise now can I?”
His cobalt blue eyes gleaming at her smile, Albus countered, “We are going by portkey….to a small island in the English Channel…near France.”
Producing a curved seashell from the pocket of his muggle jeans, Albus grinned and placed it in his open hand. As Minerva gently rested her hand atop his own, he felt the familiar tug somewhere near his middle.
They landed gracefully on a golden sandy beach.
“Well here we are my dear…on la Greve d’Azette.”
The beach seemed to stretch for miles, at one end stood wild rugged rocks and at the other a small boardwalk. Taking his love by her hand, Albus pulled her along the sand toward the granite outcrop.
“Well my dear, what do you think?”
Minerva’s face brightened as she regarded the small white walled cottage, its pale blue door opening directly onto the beach. Albus’ heart soared as she visibly relaxed, leaning back against his chest with a contented sigh.
“It’s perfect Albus.”
Seeing Minerva stifle a yawn Albus hoisted her into his arms, grinning wolfishly he carried her toward the old fisherman’s cottage.
“Early night, my love?”
----------
The next morning Minerva was awoken by the warmth of the morning sun and the sound of gentle waves lapping at the shore. She lay, relishing the feel of Albus’ strong arms surrounding her in a warm embrace. Albus snored softly as his hands absently roamed up and down her sides. She couldn’t help the smirk that found its way to her lips.
“I do, of course, know that you’re awake, Albus.”
Turning and snuggling into his arms she was met with azure blue orbs, wide with feigned innocence.
“So, what are we going to do today, Albus?”
“Do you remember Minerva, when we spent the day with the students in muggle Oxford? Well, you seemed to enjoy those…those.. bicycle things so much I thought we could use them to explore.”
Several hours later they found themselves in a very different landscape. Gone was the gentle slope of the sandy beach. They stood surrounded by a stone ruin, braced against a howling wind as it whipped up and over the jagged cliffs. Minerva peered through a grey archway out across the foaming sea.
“Gronez castle, built to defend the island’s north coast.”
Albus read from the guidebook, while rubbing his knee gingerly. Minerva laughed as she leaned down to kiss the grazed skin tenderly. Albus had found it most difficult remembering how to balance on the bicycle. He was feeling rather pleased with himself when he had managed half an hour without one wobble. ‘Just goes to show, pride before a fall,’ he thought ruefully. Somehow his beard had become tangled in the wheel and he had found himself kneeling in a very prickly gorse bush. Minerva had been unable to breathe for laughing as Albus vowed never to visit the Devils Hole again.
By early evening both Albus and Minerva were very, very hungry. As they rounded a corner they happened upon a small pebbled beach. Nestled in a patch of verdant woodland overlooking the beach was a country pub.
“Time for dinner, would you agree my dear?”
Nodding Minerva led the way into the cosy bar. The low ceilings and roaring fire gave the Smugglers Inn a very intimate feel. They dined on a traditional local meal called ‘bean crock’ (which seemed to Albus to be bean casserole with sausages) with bread wrapped in cabbage leaves. The local drink of apple cider washed the meal down rather well. Minerva’s cheeks were rosy and she was giggling in a most uncharacteristic manner at Albus, who had joined the barkeeper in singing old sea shanties.
As the sun drew ever closer to the horizon, it became apparent that getting the bicycles back to the cottage would be a difficult task. Albus and Minerva gratefully accepted the short, grey-haired barkeeper’s offer of a lift home in his van. An hour later they were curled on a blanket, watching the last of the sun’s rays cast an amber light across the water in front of the cottage. Minerva had surreptitiously used her wand to light a small fire to warm the now crisp air. Albus, his crooked nose buried in a local history book, chuckled.
“The barman, Mr Le Bihan….. His name means Mr Small…how appropriate.”
On getting no reply, Albus glanced to the witch resting her head on his knee. Her slow, shallow breathing told him she was already asleep.
“Goodnight my darling,” Albus whispered, as he gently wrapped her in the tartan blanket. Placing a gentle kiss to her forehead Albus carried her carefully into the cottage.
----------
The next morning, Albus was awoken by the aroma of frying bacon. Padding through to the kitchen he found Minerva, wrapped in his purple dressing gown, busily making pancakes. Snaking his arms around her slim waist and resting his chin on her shoulder, he kissed her neck lightly.
“Hey, I was going to make you breakfast.”
“Oh Albus, you looked so cute laying there in that mauve nightcap, that I didn’t have the heart to wake you…and I was hungry.”
Her stomach growled as if to emphasize her point.
“Now sit.”
After enjoying a breakfast of pancakes and bacon, the addition of half a bottle of syrup earned Albus a pointed stare, Minerva tapped the front of the guidebook.
“Let’s go here today. I’ve checked the tide times and its low tide so we can walk out to it. If the tide is high when it’s time to leave the muggles have ingenious cars that turn into boats to get them back to dry land.”
‘Elizabeth Castle’ Albus read. ‘In the centre of a large bay, used to defend the island against the Normans and later the Germans in world war two.’
“Why not, my dear."
In no time they were strolling hand in hand along the causeway out to the castle. They had removed their shoes to paddle in the green rock pools along the way. Albus hastily replaced his, after a rather large crab appeared to be following him, snapping its claws in the direction of his toes. Minerva had teased him mercilessly for being afraid of a crab as they explored the castle and its small museum. When she continued on the ride back to shore in the boat/car, Albus, who could take no more, reached into the water and scooped up a handful of the salty liquid, unceremoniously dumping it on her head. Squealing loudly Minerva reached into the cool blue green sea and sprayed Albus with two handfuls. They continued for some minutes until, now distinctly damp, they collapsed in a fit of childish giggles. Several muggles, who sat near them, glared disapprovingly at the elderly couple behaving like a pair of teenagers.
After hiding behind a large rock to apply quick drying charms, the couple ambled along the boardwalk searching for a restaurant. Resting her head on Albus’ shoulder, Minerva spotted one with a sign stating that they specialised in seafood.
“Nelsons Eye, this looks good Albus. You could take your revenge on that crab from earlier.”
Rolling his twinkling blue eyes, Albus pulled out a chair for Minerva.
“Would you care to take a seat, my lady?”
Blushing slightly Minerva slid onto the chair and gazed out across the ocean. From their table outside the restaurant they had a view of the whole bay right out to the uninhabited reef towards the coast of France.
“Isn’t it beautiful Albus?” she sighed.
“Not half as beautiful as you, my dear Tabby.”
Hot tears sprung to Minerva’s eyes and they shone in the evening light.
They sat in companionable silence sharing a freshly caught seafood platter (a Fruit de Mer) and a bottle of chilled Muscadet wine. Secretly Albus hoped that the claw he was attempting to pry open did indeed belong to that aggressive crustatian from earlier.
After paying for their meal they took the short stroll back to their cottage.
“Thank you Albus.”
Her voice barely audible, Albus was unsure if Minerva had actually spoken.
“I’m sorry my dear?”
“For all of this Albus, thank you.”
Enveloping her in his arms, Albus sighed deeply.
“It is I who should be thanking you Minerva. Without you I am hopeless; you complete me. I love you with all my heart and I will never, never forgive myself for treating you so badly these past few months. I give you my word that from now on things will be different. I will not allow you to work yourself to death for me, you are entirely too precious.”
Albus felt Minerva’s tears dampen his beard as she clung to him fiercely. Her voice cracked as she spoke.
“I love you too Albus…so much that I would gladly work myself to death for you.”
Albus’ own tears coursed down his face and mingled in his beard with Minerva’s. It seemed like an age that they stood embracing one another tightly, both unwilling to ever let go.
“Alas, my dear Tabby, we must.”
With a wave of his wand their luggage was packed and shrunk once more, taking the shell that would return them to Hogwarts, Albus placed a loving kiss to her velvety soft lips. As she grasped the shell and he felt that familiar tug, Albus made a silent promise to never again take the keeper of his heart for granted.
