Post by CrankyCauldron on Apr 23, 2007 17:36:35 GMT -5
A/N: I’ve always thought that the arguments between Minerva and Umbridge in OotP were probably a common place occurrence during that year, with much of the same rhetoric being thrown at the other. Hee!
I have to rate this quite high – a 12 at least; but since this board operates a 12 years age limit on members, I should be safe! It wasn’t supposed to be quite so… uh, horny? LOL! Oh dear… *blushes*
Professor McGonagall was more than glad to reach the sanctuary of the staff room. She shut the door behind her with a little more force than was necessary, dumped the fifth year Gryffindor essays on a spare desk and threw herself into an armchair by the fire.
‘Ungh,’ she groaned, taking her glasses off and rubbing the bridge of her nose.
‘Hard day?’ grinned Flilius, smoking a pipe emitting fat puffs of purple smoke that mostly obscured his tiny frame.
‘Long day,’ Minerva complained. ‘Delores Umbridge was inspecting one of my lessons today.’ She put as much venom as she could into the word inspecting, making Filius chuckle.
The door to the staff room opened again, and much to Minerva’s disgust, admitted said Professor herself.
‘Hem, hem,’ said Delores. ‘I was just marking your performance, Minerva. You might be interested to know how it’s going.’
The look on Minerva’s face would have cooked hardier toads than Delores Umbridge, but the woman was oblivious, and made quite a show of putting down that damned clipboard and flourishing a fluffy pink quill.
‘Not particularly,’ said Minerva finally, through gritted teeth, her glasses back on her nose and her eyes spitting sparks. Professor Flitwick, with a remarkable regard for his safety, coughed on his pipe and scuttled from the room.
‘Well, you’re surprisingly confident, considering…’ said Delores, with that nasty smile playing on her hideous face.
Minerva briefly wondered if strangling the fat, supercilious, power-hungry cow would reduce her chances of passing.
‘Considering what?’ she asked, in a disinterested voice, she really wasn’t all that curious, but the chance to needle the woman could not be passed up.
‘Well, there are a number of factors that count against you.’
‘Such as?’
‘Your age, for one.’
Minerva scowled. ‘My age?’ she scorned. ‘We have a ghost teaching at Hogwarts! And age does not affect my ability to teach and control adolescent children.’
‘Well, one cannot deny that you are getting on in years, Professor. Surely retirement beckons?’
‘I shall retire, when and if I decide that teaching no longer holds any attraction for me,’ snapped Minerva, unable to keep the irritation from showing in her voice.
Delores Umbridge smiled in an unconvincingly friendly manner. ‘Then there is the question of your loyalty to Dumbledore,’ she added silkily.
Minerva arched one finely plucked eyebrow in a well-practised gesture of disdain, and saw no reason to respond.
‘How far does that loyalty extend?’ Delores continued. ‘Perhaps into the classroom? Into the vulnerable and open minds of those you teach?’
‘Oh for Heavens sake!’ Minerva snapped. ‘Not that old chestnut again! I teach Transfiguration, and Transfiguration only. As you have seen!’
‘The Ministry has a duty to protect the students of Hogwarts from malicious, undermining tactics!’ cried Umbridge, jabbing a fat finger at Minerva’s seated figure.
‘The Ministry has no business in Hogwarts!’ Minerva retaliated, furiously.
‘The Ministry has the right to over-rule the Headmaster if they believe his judgement is impaired!’ shouted Umbridge, her voice quite shrill.
‘Albus Dumbledore’s judgement is not impaired!’ raged Minerva, and abruptly got to her feet. Tall and slim she towered over the short and plump DADA professor, whose chins wobbled as she jabbed her finger ever more violently. ‘It is the Minister’s judgment which is flawed, and no wonder, if he has fools like you working for him!’
‘Albus Dumbledore is an old, decrepit, traitor!’ screamed Delores Umbridge, loosing the fat pink bow on her head band as she practically stamped her foot.
‘Cornelius Fudge, is a useless, brainless oaf!’ shouted Minerva, shaking in fury.
‘Dumbledore is senile!’
‘Fudge has as much leadership abilities as a rotten tomato! He should be glad of Dumbledore’s assistance – it’s the only thing that has kept him in power for so long!’
‘Ah-HAH!’ shouted Umbridge triumphantly. ‘You do want Dumbledore to be Minister!’
‘Oh good grief,’ sighed Minerva, rolling her eyes. ‘Are you completely bereft of common sense?’
Umbridge had picked up her clipboard again and was scribbling with an indecent glee and haste.
Minerva twisted her lips in disgust, a truly physical anger coursing through her shaking body and dearly tempting her to transfigure the woman in to the toad she resembled so much.
Umbridge looked up, ‘You might defend him,’ she said, maliciously, ‘but will he defend you, when I fire you!’
‘I have complete confidence in the Headmaster,’ Minerva responded calmly, though she did wonder for a moment. She had been friends with Albus Dumbledore for fifty-six years, and yet it still sometimes felt like he was a stranger to her.
‘I doubt that confidence is returned,’ Umbridge said snidely. ‘Dumbledore has, after all, a busy life, and you do not figure largely in it.’
‘Dumbledore trusts me to run the school in his absences,’ said Minerva stoutly, annoyed with herself for feeling the need to defend her relationship with the Headmaster.
‘Yes, you are very reliable,’ agreed Umbridge spitefully, making the word synonymous with boring, and causing Minerva’s colour to rise.
‘You have no idea what you are talking about!’ she exclaimed, lifting her chin.
Umbridge laughed, that high pitched girly laugh that made the hairs on the back of Minerva’s neck prickle and her stomach acid rise, - she shuddered in revulsion.
‘I think you’ll find that I know everything that goes on in this school!’ Delores Umbridge declared, smirking.
‘And I think you’ll find that you are woefully mistaken!’ derided Minerva, with as much contempt as she could manage, which was quite a lot.
‘HA!’ snorted Delores. ‘You are as barmy as that idiot man you defend!’
It was possibly the snort that prompted Minerva to say what she said next, it was just so damn superior, so infuriating!
‘Oh yes?’ she challenged, in a deceptively quiet voice. ‘Well, Albus Dumbledore and I did it on the Quidditch Pitch!’
Delores Umbridge’s mouth fell open in shock, words had apparently failed her; whilst poor Minerva was horrified at the complete untruth she had just blurted out to possibly the one woman who could make sure the entire world heard about it.
Umbridge’s mouth finally shut with an audible clack; then with her wide eyes bulging she backed away from Minerva, and practically fell out of the staff room door in a stupefied silence.
Minerva closed her eyes and covered her face with her hands as the sensation of impending doom crashed through her and made her wish desperately for a time turner and a muzzle.
‘Oh Merlin, no!’ she despaired to an empty staff room. ‘Oh no! What have I done? Anyone but Umbridge! Anyone! Oh urgh!’
‘I concur,’ said a deep rolling voice, which Minerva recognised, to her acute mortification, as being Albus Dumbledore’s. ‘Might I suggest you run these things past the Headmaster first?’
Very slowly, in the hopes that he might disappear, Minerva took her hands away from her face, and was appalled to see that very man stood by the staff room window, looking very solemn.
‘You –heard?’ she asked, so embarrassed and ashamed that she wished the floor would open up and swallow her like the proverbial bug she felt like.
‘I did indeed,’ admitted Albus Dumbledore, chewing his cheek as the urge to laugh grew uncontainable.
‘I am so sorry!’ Minerva wailed. ‘It was that damn woman!’
Albus Dumbledore attempted to remain straight faced, but couldn’t; he let out a guffaw of laughter and bent over as his stomach cramped and he roared with laughter.
Minerva stared, entirely off-kilter and slightly irritated at his cavalier attitude to what she thought was an incredibly dire situation.
‘If you don’t mind!’ she said haughtily, hands on hips. ‘I have to find some way to extricate us from this absurd situation.’
Albus Dumbledore let up laughing and walked forward to take her hand from her hip and hold it in his own.
‘What on earth professed you, Minerva?’ he asked.
‘I don’t know!’ cried Minerva, pleasantly surprised by his actions, and hiding it with exasperation.
‘Albus Dumbledore and I did it on the Quidditch Pitch?’ he echoed her words back at her, a broad smile still on his lips as his fingers curled around hers.
‘Well, I-’ Minerva stuttered, and then shrugged helplessly.
‘Why ever did you say that?’ he prodded, mercilessly.
‘It was the first thing that came to mind, I suppose,’ Minerva admitted, her cheeks now so rosy she looked like she was running a temperature.
‘Hmm,’ said Dumbledore. ‘I really can’t have my senior staff lying.’
‘That’s the issue here?’
Albus Dumbledore smiled and lifted their joined hands to kiss her hand; he lingered overly long for his usual gesture of affection, and Minerva felt her stomach flip-flop in a not unpleasant manner.
‘My dear Minerva,’ he said, his eyes glittering over the tops of his spectacles. ‘I should hate to prove Delores wrong.’
‘I beg your pardon?’
He stepped closer and released her hand to lay a finger on her lips; she was shocked to feel his other hand come to rest on the small of her back.
‘I would be rather proud to say to Cornelius that his undersecretary was quite correct in her supposition.’
‘Proud?’ said Minerva weakly, very conscious of his hand on her back, easing her yet closer, and her lips moving against his callused finger.
‘Mmm-Hmm,’ murmured Albus, his finger traced her parted lips, and Minerva began to tremble.
‘We’re in the staff room,’ she pointed out nervously as their bodies touched and Albus’ trim body pressed against her slim figure.
‘I couldn’t care less,’ replied Albus, wickedly.
‘What are you doing?’ she asked desperately as against her will she began to lean in against him.
‘One word from you and I will stop,’ Albus reassured her.
Strangely Minerva found the desire to say any words lost to the sensation of Albus Dumbledore’s fingers stroking her face.
‘One word,’ he repeated and looked directly into her eyes, quite serious now.
Minerva swallowed but said nothing, Albus leaned forward and kissed her gently; she closed her eyes and felt her heart beat a tattoo against his chest; felt the answering beat in his own heart.
He drew back and she opened her eyes to see him looking at her in a way she had thought never to see, heat in his gaze that made her weak kneed; she lifted her arms to slide them up around his body and deliberately let her body press against his, making Albus’s breath catch. This time when he kissed her it was harder and deeper, and she responded by opening her mouth capturing his seeking tongue with her own, his hands dropped and one boldly slid down the curve of her back to caress her bum and lift it against him to feel his arousal hard against her thigh.
Minerva was trembling intensely now, gasping against his mouth as Albus quite thoroughly kissed her senseless.
‘Might I suggest a change of venue?’ he said, breaking the kiss as he realised they were rapidly heading beyond reasonable control.
‘Please,’ said Minerva raggedly. ‘Just not the Quidditch Pitch.’
He grinned roguishly. ‘Not yet anyhow,’ he told her, and throwing a pinch of floo in the fire place he swung her up into her arms and stepped eagerly into the flames.
A/N: Oh dear... was that terrible? It turned a bit smutty at the end! Smutty and smoochy. I apologise if I’ve traumatised you all!
It was fun to write mind… there’s just some fics that should stay unread, untouched and gathering dust in the computer memory. I couldn’t resist – it’s my first challenge entry!
A blushing [CC]
I have to rate this quite high – a 12 at least; but since this board operates a 12 years age limit on members, I should be safe! It wasn’t supposed to be quite so… uh, horny? LOL! Oh dear… *blushes*
Challenge #76 Response
One Word
One Word
Professor McGonagall was more than glad to reach the sanctuary of the staff room. She shut the door behind her with a little more force than was necessary, dumped the fifth year Gryffindor essays on a spare desk and threw herself into an armchair by the fire.
‘Ungh,’ she groaned, taking her glasses off and rubbing the bridge of her nose.
‘Hard day?’ grinned Flilius, smoking a pipe emitting fat puffs of purple smoke that mostly obscured his tiny frame.
‘Long day,’ Minerva complained. ‘Delores Umbridge was inspecting one of my lessons today.’ She put as much venom as she could into the word inspecting, making Filius chuckle.
The door to the staff room opened again, and much to Minerva’s disgust, admitted said Professor herself.
‘Hem, hem,’ said Delores. ‘I was just marking your performance, Minerva. You might be interested to know how it’s going.’
The look on Minerva’s face would have cooked hardier toads than Delores Umbridge, but the woman was oblivious, and made quite a show of putting down that damned clipboard and flourishing a fluffy pink quill.
‘Not particularly,’ said Minerva finally, through gritted teeth, her glasses back on her nose and her eyes spitting sparks. Professor Flitwick, with a remarkable regard for his safety, coughed on his pipe and scuttled from the room.
‘Well, you’re surprisingly confident, considering…’ said Delores, with that nasty smile playing on her hideous face.
Minerva briefly wondered if strangling the fat, supercilious, power-hungry cow would reduce her chances of passing.
‘Considering what?’ she asked, in a disinterested voice, she really wasn’t all that curious, but the chance to needle the woman could not be passed up.
‘Well, there are a number of factors that count against you.’
‘Such as?’
‘Your age, for one.’
Minerva scowled. ‘My age?’ she scorned. ‘We have a ghost teaching at Hogwarts! And age does not affect my ability to teach and control adolescent children.’
‘Well, one cannot deny that you are getting on in years, Professor. Surely retirement beckons?’
‘I shall retire, when and if I decide that teaching no longer holds any attraction for me,’ snapped Minerva, unable to keep the irritation from showing in her voice.
Delores Umbridge smiled in an unconvincingly friendly manner. ‘Then there is the question of your loyalty to Dumbledore,’ she added silkily.
Minerva arched one finely plucked eyebrow in a well-practised gesture of disdain, and saw no reason to respond.
‘How far does that loyalty extend?’ Delores continued. ‘Perhaps into the classroom? Into the vulnerable and open minds of those you teach?’
‘Oh for Heavens sake!’ Minerva snapped. ‘Not that old chestnut again! I teach Transfiguration, and Transfiguration only. As you have seen!’
‘The Ministry has a duty to protect the students of Hogwarts from malicious, undermining tactics!’ cried Umbridge, jabbing a fat finger at Minerva’s seated figure.
‘The Ministry has no business in Hogwarts!’ Minerva retaliated, furiously.
‘The Ministry has the right to over-rule the Headmaster if they believe his judgement is impaired!’ shouted Umbridge, her voice quite shrill.
‘Albus Dumbledore’s judgement is not impaired!’ raged Minerva, and abruptly got to her feet. Tall and slim she towered over the short and plump DADA professor, whose chins wobbled as she jabbed her finger ever more violently. ‘It is the Minister’s judgment which is flawed, and no wonder, if he has fools like you working for him!’
‘Albus Dumbledore is an old, decrepit, traitor!’ screamed Delores Umbridge, loosing the fat pink bow on her head band as she practically stamped her foot.
‘Cornelius Fudge, is a useless, brainless oaf!’ shouted Minerva, shaking in fury.
‘Dumbledore is senile!’
‘Fudge has as much leadership abilities as a rotten tomato! He should be glad of Dumbledore’s assistance – it’s the only thing that has kept him in power for so long!’
‘Ah-HAH!’ shouted Umbridge triumphantly. ‘You do want Dumbledore to be Minister!’
‘Oh good grief,’ sighed Minerva, rolling her eyes. ‘Are you completely bereft of common sense?’
Umbridge had picked up her clipboard again and was scribbling with an indecent glee and haste.
Minerva twisted her lips in disgust, a truly physical anger coursing through her shaking body and dearly tempting her to transfigure the woman in to the toad she resembled so much.
Umbridge looked up, ‘You might defend him,’ she said, maliciously, ‘but will he defend you, when I fire you!’
‘I have complete confidence in the Headmaster,’ Minerva responded calmly, though she did wonder for a moment. She had been friends with Albus Dumbledore for fifty-six years, and yet it still sometimes felt like he was a stranger to her.
‘I doubt that confidence is returned,’ Umbridge said snidely. ‘Dumbledore has, after all, a busy life, and you do not figure largely in it.’
‘Dumbledore trusts me to run the school in his absences,’ said Minerva stoutly, annoyed with herself for feeling the need to defend her relationship with the Headmaster.
‘Yes, you are very reliable,’ agreed Umbridge spitefully, making the word synonymous with boring, and causing Minerva’s colour to rise.
‘You have no idea what you are talking about!’ she exclaimed, lifting her chin.
Umbridge laughed, that high pitched girly laugh that made the hairs on the back of Minerva’s neck prickle and her stomach acid rise, - she shuddered in revulsion.
‘I think you’ll find that I know everything that goes on in this school!’ Delores Umbridge declared, smirking.
‘And I think you’ll find that you are woefully mistaken!’ derided Minerva, with as much contempt as she could manage, which was quite a lot.
‘HA!’ snorted Delores. ‘You are as barmy as that idiot man you defend!’
It was possibly the snort that prompted Minerva to say what she said next, it was just so damn superior, so infuriating!
‘Oh yes?’ she challenged, in a deceptively quiet voice. ‘Well, Albus Dumbledore and I did it on the Quidditch Pitch!’
Delores Umbridge’s mouth fell open in shock, words had apparently failed her; whilst poor Minerva was horrified at the complete untruth she had just blurted out to possibly the one woman who could make sure the entire world heard about it.
Umbridge’s mouth finally shut with an audible clack; then with her wide eyes bulging she backed away from Minerva, and practically fell out of the staff room door in a stupefied silence.
Minerva closed her eyes and covered her face with her hands as the sensation of impending doom crashed through her and made her wish desperately for a time turner and a muzzle.
‘Oh Merlin, no!’ she despaired to an empty staff room. ‘Oh no! What have I done? Anyone but Umbridge! Anyone! Oh urgh!’
‘I concur,’ said a deep rolling voice, which Minerva recognised, to her acute mortification, as being Albus Dumbledore’s. ‘Might I suggest you run these things past the Headmaster first?’
Very slowly, in the hopes that he might disappear, Minerva took her hands away from her face, and was appalled to see that very man stood by the staff room window, looking very solemn.
‘You –heard?’ she asked, so embarrassed and ashamed that she wished the floor would open up and swallow her like the proverbial bug she felt like.
‘I did indeed,’ admitted Albus Dumbledore, chewing his cheek as the urge to laugh grew uncontainable.
‘I am so sorry!’ Minerva wailed. ‘It was that damn woman!’
Albus Dumbledore attempted to remain straight faced, but couldn’t; he let out a guffaw of laughter and bent over as his stomach cramped and he roared with laughter.
Minerva stared, entirely off-kilter and slightly irritated at his cavalier attitude to what she thought was an incredibly dire situation.
‘If you don’t mind!’ she said haughtily, hands on hips. ‘I have to find some way to extricate us from this absurd situation.’
Albus Dumbledore let up laughing and walked forward to take her hand from her hip and hold it in his own.
‘What on earth professed you, Minerva?’ he asked.
‘I don’t know!’ cried Minerva, pleasantly surprised by his actions, and hiding it with exasperation.
‘Albus Dumbledore and I did it on the Quidditch Pitch?’ he echoed her words back at her, a broad smile still on his lips as his fingers curled around hers.
‘Well, I-’ Minerva stuttered, and then shrugged helplessly.
‘Why ever did you say that?’ he prodded, mercilessly.
‘It was the first thing that came to mind, I suppose,’ Minerva admitted, her cheeks now so rosy she looked like she was running a temperature.
‘Hmm,’ said Dumbledore. ‘I really can’t have my senior staff lying.’
‘That’s the issue here?’
Albus Dumbledore smiled and lifted their joined hands to kiss her hand; he lingered overly long for his usual gesture of affection, and Minerva felt her stomach flip-flop in a not unpleasant manner.
‘My dear Minerva,’ he said, his eyes glittering over the tops of his spectacles. ‘I should hate to prove Delores wrong.’
‘I beg your pardon?’
He stepped closer and released her hand to lay a finger on her lips; she was shocked to feel his other hand come to rest on the small of her back.
‘I would be rather proud to say to Cornelius that his undersecretary was quite correct in her supposition.’
‘Proud?’ said Minerva weakly, very conscious of his hand on her back, easing her yet closer, and her lips moving against his callused finger.
‘Mmm-Hmm,’ murmured Albus, his finger traced her parted lips, and Minerva began to tremble.
‘We’re in the staff room,’ she pointed out nervously as their bodies touched and Albus’ trim body pressed against her slim figure.
‘I couldn’t care less,’ replied Albus, wickedly.
‘What are you doing?’ she asked desperately as against her will she began to lean in against him.
‘One word from you and I will stop,’ Albus reassured her.
Strangely Minerva found the desire to say any words lost to the sensation of Albus Dumbledore’s fingers stroking her face.
‘One word,’ he repeated and looked directly into her eyes, quite serious now.
Minerva swallowed but said nothing, Albus leaned forward and kissed her gently; she closed her eyes and felt her heart beat a tattoo against his chest; felt the answering beat in his own heart.
He drew back and she opened her eyes to see him looking at her in a way she had thought never to see, heat in his gaze that made her weak kneed; she lifted her arms to slide them up around his body and deliberately let her body press against his, making Albus’s breath catch. This time when he kissed her it was harder and deeper, and she responded by opening her mouth capturing his seeking tongue with her own, his hands dropped and one boldly slid down the curve of her back to caress her bum and lift it against him to feel his arousal hard against her thigh.
Minerva was trembling intensely now, gasping against his mouth as Albus quite thoroughly kissed her senseless.
‘Might I suggest a change of venue?’ he said, breaking the kiss as he realised they were rapidly heading beyond reasonable control.
‘Please,’ said Minerva raggedly. ‘Just not the Quidditch Pitch.’
He grinned roguishly. ‘Not yet anyhow,’ he told her, and throwing a pinch of floo in the fire place he swung her up into her arms and stepped eagerly into the flames.
~*~
A/N: Oh dear... was that terrible? It turned a bit smutty at the end! Smutty and smoochy. I apologise if I’ve traumatised you all!
It was fun to write mind… there’s just some fics that should stay unread, untouched and gathering dust in the computer memory. I couldn’t resist – it’s my first challenge entry!
A blushing [CC]
and Umbridge...LOL
