Post by QuillofMinerva on Sept 20, 2005 5:06:04 GMT -5
A Story to Tell.
A/n: This story is a birthday present for Meredith; hope she enjoys it and that it is a surprise.
Rating: If you are a member of the board then you can read this J
Summary: Someone has a story to tell.
A Story to Tell.
The crackling of the log fire was the only thing that made a sound in the immaculate living room, the heavy drapes were pulled shut over the large bay window that looked out on to the garden that belonged to the huge mansion. Elegant oil lamps were placed around the large room, they were lit and gave the room some depth and feeling.
The door opened and in walked a dark figure; he made for the chair nearest the fire and sunk down into it’s comfortable seat. The figure lent back and sighed to itself before the door opened again and five more figures entered. They took their seats around the feet of the man sat in the chair, they looked up at him expectantly and the man smiled in the firelight.
“Tell us a story Grandpa!” asked a boy of about ten years of age; he had bright green eyes and auburn hair that seemed untameable.
“A story you say,” answered the gentleman as he reached across and lifted up a lid of a porcelain pot and took out a handful of sweets. “I have a wonderful story for you!”
The man leant forward and handed out the sweets to the children at his feet and smiled as four them gratefully accepted the them, he had one sweet left in his hand so he looked to his right and his blue eyes fell upon a girl with ebony locks and the most amazing green eyes he had seen since his eyes had fallen on the eyes of his wife.
“Grandpapa,” she said softly “do you have any other sweets apart from sherbet lemons?”
He chuckled and shook his head, the girl reminded him so much of his wife and he imagined that his wife would have been this way when she had been a child. He popped the sweet back into the pot and opened a draw, he reached in and pulled out a tin of ginger newts and offered his granddaughter one. She smiled and took the biscuit; she thanked him before she started nibbling away at the corners of the newts.
“What is the story Grandpa?” asked the boy again.
“I will tell you about a girl I once knew,” he began fondly; a smile took over his face as he remembered.
“Was she a princess?” asked the smallest of the children with eager eyes, she was perched on her knees with her hands in her lap.
“Not everyone is a princess Rebecca,” stated one of the boys with smirk.
“Fric,” warned the older man in the chair “do not tease your sister, she is allowed to like princesses. I remember at her age, you liked them just as much.”
The eldest of the children blushed brightly and mumbled an apology to his younger sister who smiled sweetly at her grandfather while all the other children looked at Fric and grinned.
“However,” began the grandfather “she was not a princess but a young woman who worked for the ministry of magic though I am sure she could have been a princess. I will tell you about our first encounter, it was not a smooth one at all.”
He chuckled to himself as he remembered the day as clearly as it had happened yesterday, the memory never faded and of that he was glad because he would never want to forget the day when he met this remarkable woman.
“When I was a young man!” he started, he waited for the giggles to start and subside before continuing. He knew his grandchildren thought of him as old and thought he had never been young despite there being pictures that showed him as a young man “I had to attend a number of balls and functions.”
“Did you dress up?” asked Rebecca excitedly
“I had to dress smartly pumpkin,” he explained “dress robes and the woman could wear lavish dress robes that made them look very beautiful. At this ball, my eyes fell upon a very pretty young lady who was sat in the corner reading a book.”
“Are you talking about Nanna?” asked girl with the ginger newt.
“Yes I am Lydia,” he said with a chuckle.
Rebecca’s mouth fell open and she tugged at her grandfather’s dark blue robes, she couldn’t believe that her Nanna had read a book when other princesses were dancing and having fun at the ball. The grandfather noticed the distressed look in his youngest granddaughters face and lent down to pick her up, he sat her on his lap and continued with his story.
“Your Nanna was wearing emerald green robes that had gold detail about the cuffs, very pretty and fit for a princess,” he watched with delight as Rebecca’s face lit up at the mention of a princess “I made my way through the dancers and went to speak to her.”
“Why weren’t you dancing Grandpa?” asked Fric.
“I am not really one for dancing,” he answered with a small smile.
“But you always danced with Nanna,” pointed out Lydia “so you must have liked dancing otherwise you wouldn’t have done it!”
“It was different with your Nanna,” he answered.
The older man chuckled and closed his eyes; it was true that he had never been one for dancing especially at ministry functions. He had always tried to keep himself to himself at functions; he didn’t want to bring attention to himself. He went to the functions because he had to, he didn’t go to dance or meet a wife though his friends encouraged him to but things had changed at that ball. He had felt drawn to the woman in the green robes with a book; she seemed to be his kind of person. He had also brought a book to the event but hadn’t had chance to read any of yet because people kept talking to him. He remembered walking past a few ladies who had called his name and had looked at him expectantly; he had simply nodded his head to be polite and continued on his way.
The young woman had been so caught up in her book that she had failed to realise that someone was approaching her, she was holding the book in one hand and in the other hand, she was holding a glass of redcurrant punch. He remembered clearly that he had made her jump when he had cleared his throat.
“Grandpa,” asked Cillian, speaking for the first time since thanking his grandfather for the sherbet lemon “why are you smiling to yourself.”
“Sorry, caught up in my own story” he answered, “I walked over to your Nanna, she was reading and didn’t hear me coming. I stopped in front of her and cleared my throat, that made her jump and the next thing I knew a glass of redcurrant punch had been thrown over my dress robes.”
The room was soon filled with laughter as they all envisioned their Grandfather covered in redcurrant punch, he joined in as he remembered the embarrassed look on his wife’s face as she realised what she had done and who she had done it to. She had jumped to her feet and had reached into her pockets for some tissues; she had tended to the stain on his robes but had only made it worse. He remembered that her hands had been shaking and she refused to meet his eye, he had placed his larger hands over hers and steadied them. He had made light of the situation and she had finally looked up at him, her cheeks had flushed bright red and words had seemed to have failed her.
“Did your mummy tell you off for getting your dress robes dirty?” asked Rebecca with wide eyes, she often got told off because she had spilt something down herself.
“My mother never knew,” he answered with a smile “I was able to cast a simple cleaning spell on myself. Your Nanna forgot she was a witch temporary, she was very embarrassed about throwing a drink at me.”
“Oh!” replied Rebecca
“What happened then?” asked Lydia
“I asked her to dance!” he told them.
He smiled as he remembered that moment; she had looked at him with surprise and then nodded her head. He remembered leading her out on to the dance floor amongst the other couples and taking her in his arms, he had been aware of the looks they were getting and could hear people whispering excitedly that he was dancing with someone. His dance partner had been slightly stiff at first, he was sure that she was still worrying about the drink incident but as the music weaved around them, he felt her relax and match his steps perfectly. It felt like they had been dancing together for years, she had felt so right in his arms and the silence between them had been comfortable like it was with old, close friends. They had become unaware that music had stopped and another tune had started, they had continued like that for most of the night and as time has passed, she had spoken to him. He could still remember the sweet words that had fallen from her lips that night, she could have read the Daily Prophet to him and he wouldn’t have minded because the sound of her voice was musical to him. They had talked about a whole range of subjects, about their dislike for such social events and their love for books and Transfiguration.
“We danced a lot that night,” he told his grandchildren “and talked to the early hours of the morning.”
“Did you kiss?” asked Lydia with a romantic look on her face
“Urgh, you’re disgusting Lydia!” cried the boys, all making faces.
“No she isn’t!” said Rebecca as she smiled at her sister “Boys are disgusting though, you smell”
“Now now you lot,” said their grandfather with amusement “no need to argue about it.”
Lydia ignored the looks she was getting from her brothers and asked her grandfather if they had kissed. He had simply nodded and the boys groaned while the girls giggled. He remembered that he had taken her out on to the balcony and they had sat beneath the stars, they had joked about the drink-throwing incident. She had pointed out a shooting star and ordered him to make a wish, he had done what she had asked and hoped that his wish would come true that night. She had looked at him afterwards and had smiled, he felt an invisible force tug him closer to her and he had brushed his lips against her soft ones. The kiss had been soft and over to soon but it hadn’t been the only kiss he had received from her that night.
“I can’t believe you asked him that!” groaned Fric “It was bad enough when they used to kiss in front of us!”
The door opened again and in walked another figure; it looked at the scene in front of them and smiled.
“Fric,” the figure said, “you look like you have been chewing a bumble bee!”
“They are talking about kissing!” he answered with a roll of his eyes.
“Oh I see, well dinner is ready!”
The children jumped to their feet and raced out of the room before anything else was said, laughter and chattering could be heard as they made their way to the dinning room.
“Kissing!” asked the figure with a smile
“I was telling them a story!” answered the grandfather.
“So I see,” they replied, “what was it about!”
“Our first meeting darling!” he answered with a grin as he stood up and made his way over to his wife.
“Oh Albus,” she said as she wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her head on his chest “you are such a romantic!”
“Only when it comes to you my darling Minerva!” he said before cupping her face in his hand and kissing her softly
THE END!
A/n: This story is a birthday present for Meredith; hope she enjoys it and that it is a surprise.
Rating: If you are a member of the board then you can read this J
Summary: Someone has a story to tell.
A Story to Tell.
The crackling of the log fire was the only thing that made a sound in the immaculate living room, the heavy drapes were pulled shut over the large bay window that looked out on to the garden that belonged to the huge mansion. Elegant oil lamps were placed around the large room, they were lit and gave the room some depth and feeling.
The door opened and in walked a dark figure; he made for the chair nearest the fire and sunk down into it’s comfortable seat. The figure lent back and sighed to itself before the door opened again and five more figures entered. They took their seats around the feet of the man sat in the chair, they looked up at him expectantly and the man smiled in the firelight.
“Tell us a story Grandpa!” asked a boy of about ten years of age; he had bright green eyes and auburn hair that seemed untameable.
“A story you say,” answered the gentleman as he reached across and lifted up a lid of a porcelain pot and took out a handful of sweets. “I have a wonderful story for you!”
The man leant forward and handed out the sweets to the children at his feet and smiled as four them gratefully accepted the them, he had one sweet left in his hand so he looked to his right and his blue eyes fell upon a girl with ebony locks and the most amazing green eyes he had seen since his eyes had fallen on the eyes of his wife.
“Grandpapa,” she said softly “do you have any other sweets apart from sherbet lemons?”
He chuckled and shook his head, the girl reminded him so much of his wife and he imagined that his wife would have been this way when she had been a child. He popped the sweet back into the pot and opened a draw, he reached in and pulled out a tin of ginger newts and offered his granddaughter one. She smiled and took the biscuit; she thanked him before she started nibbling away at the corners of the newts.
“What is the story Grandpa?” asked the boy again.
“I will tell you about a girl I once knew,” he began fondly; a smile took over his face as he remembered.
“Was she a princess?” asked the smallest of the children with eager eyes, she was perched on her knees with her hands in her lap.
“Not everyone is a princess Rebecca,” stated one of the boys with smirk.
“Fric,” warned the older man in the chair “do not tease your sister, she is allowed to like princesses. I remember at her age, you liked them just as much.”
The eldest of the children blushed brightly and mumbled an apology to his younger sister who smiled sweetly at her grandfather while all the other children looked at Fric and grinned.
“However,” began the grandfather “she was not a princess but a young woman who worked for the ministry of magic though I am sure she could have been a princess. I will tell you about our first encounter, it was not a smooth one at all.”
He chuckled to himself as he remembered the day as clearly as it had happened yesterday, the memory never faded and of that he was glad because he would never want to forget the day when he met this remarkable woman.
“When I was a young man!” he started, he waited for the giggles to start and subside before continuing. He knew his grandchildren thought of him as old and thought he had never been young despite there being pictures that showed him as a young man “I had to attend a number of balls and functions.”
“Did you dress up?” asked Rebecca excitedly
“I had to dress smartly pumpkin,” he explained “dress robes and the woman could wear lavish dress robes that made them look very beautiful. At this ball, my eyes fell upon a very pretty young lady who was sat in the corner reading a book.”
“Are you talking about Nanna?” asked girl with the ginger newt.
“Yes I am Lydia,” he said with a chuckle.
Rebecca’s mouth fell open and she tugged at her grandfather’s dark blue robes, she couldn’t believe that her Nanna had read a book when other princesses were dancing and having fun at the ball. The grandfather noticed the distressed look in his youngest granddaughters face and lent down to pick her up, he sat her on his lap and continued with his story.
“Your Nanna was wearing emerald green robes that had gold detail about the cuffs, very pretty and fit for a princess,” he watched with delight as Rebecca’s face lit up at the mention of a princess “I made my way through the dancers and went to speak to her.”
“Why weren’t you dancing Grandpa?” asked Fric.
“I am not really one for dancing,” he answered with a small smile.
“But you always danced with Nanna,” pointed out Lydia “so you must have liked dancing otherwise you wouldn’t have done it!”
“It was different with your Nanna,” he answered.
The older man chuckled and closed his eyes; it was true that he had never been one for dancing especially at ministry functions. He had always tried to keep himself to himself at functions; he didn’t want to bring attention to himself. He went to the functions because he had to, he didn’t go to dance or meet a wife though his friends encouraged him to but things had changed at that ball. He had felt drawn to the woman in the green robes with a book; she seemed to be his kind of person. He had also brought a book to the event but hadn’t had chance to read any of yet because people kept talking to him. He remembered walking past a few ladies who had called his name and had looked at him expectantly; he had simply nodded his head to be polite and continued on his way.
The young woman had been so caught up in her book that she had failed to realise that someone was approaching her, she was holding the book in one hand and in the other hand, she was holding a glass of redcurrant punch. He remembered clearly that he had made her jump when he had cleared his throat.
“Grandpa,” asked Cillian, speaking for the first time since thanking his grandfather for the sherbet lemon “why are you smiling to yourself.”
“Sorry, caught up in my own story” he answered, “I walked over to your Nanna, she was reading and didn’t hear me coming. I stopped in front of her and cleared my throat, that made her jump and the next thing I knew a glass of redcurrant punch had been thrown over my dress robes.”
The room was soon filled with laughter as they all envisioned their Grandfather covered in redcurrant punch, he joined in as he remembered the embarrassed look on his wife’s face as she realised what she had done and who she had done it to. She had jumped to her feet and had reached into her pockets for some tissues; she had tended to the stain on his robes but had only made it worse. He remembered that her hands had been shaking and she refused to meet his eye, he had placed his larger hands over hers and steadied them. He had made light of the situation and she had finally looked up at him, her cheeks had flushed bright red and words had seemed to have failed her.
“Did your mummy tell you off for getting your dress robes dirty?” asked Rebecca with wide eyes, she often got told off because she had spilt something down herself.
“My mother never knew,” he answered with a smile “I was able to cast a simple cleaning spell on myself. Your Nanna forgot she was a witch temporary, she was very embarrassed about throwing a drink at me.”
“Oh!” replied Rebecca
“What happened then?” asked Lydia
“I asked her to dance!” he told them.
He smiled as he remembered that moment; she had looked at him with surprise and then nodded her head. He remembered leading her out on to the dance floor amongst the other couples and taking her in his arms, he had been aware of the looks they were getting and could hear people whispering excitedly that he was dancing with someone. His dance partner had been slightly stiff at first, he was sure that she was still worrying about the drink incident but as the music weaved around them, he felt her relax and match his steps perfectly. It felt like they had been dancing together for years, she had felt so right in his arms and the silence between them had been comfortable like it was with old, close friends. They had become unaware that music had stopped and another tune had started, they had continued like that for most of the night and as time has passed, she had spoken to him. He could still remember the sweet words that had fallen from her lips that night, she could have read the Daily Prophet to him and he wouldn’t have minded because the sound of her voice was musical to him. They had talked about a whole range of subjects, about their dislike for such social events and their love for books and Transfiguration.
“We danced a lot that night,” he told his grandchildren “and talked to the early hours of the morning.”
“Did you kiss?” asked Lydia with a romantic look on her face
“Urgh, you’re disgusting Lydia!” cried the boys, all making faces.
“No she isn’t!” said Rebecca as she smiled at her sister “Boys are disgusting though, you smell”
“Now now you lot,” said their grandfather with amusement “no need to argue about it.”
Lydia ignored the looks she was getting from her brothers and asked her grandfather if they had kissed. He had simply nodded and the boys groaned while the girls giggled. He remembered that he had taken her out on to the balcony and they had sat beneath the stars, they had joked about the drink-throwing incident. She had pointed out a shooting star and ordered him to make a wish, he had done what she had asked and hoped that his wish would come true that night. She had looked at him afterwards and had smiled, he felt an invisible force tug him closer to her and he had brushed his lips against her soft ones. The kiss had been soft and over to soon but it hadn’t been the only kiss he had received from her that night.
“I can’t believe you asked him that!” groaned Fric “It was bad enough when they used to kiss in front of us!”
The door opened again and in walked another figure; it looked at the scene in front of them and smiled.
“Fric,” the figure said, “you look like you have been chewing a bumble bee!”
“They are talking about kissing!” he answered with a roll of his eyes.
“Oh I see, well dinner is ready!”
The children jumped to their feet and raced out of the room before anything else was said, laughter and chattering could be heard as they made their way to the dinning room.
“Kissing!” asked the figure with a smile
“I was telling them a story!” answered the grandfather.
“So I see,” they replied, “what was it about!”
“Our first meeting darling!” he answered with a grin as he stood up and made his way over to his wife.
“Oh Albus,” she said as she wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her head on his chest “you are such a romantic!”
“Only when it comes to you my darling Minerva!” he said before cupping her face in his hand and kissing her softly
THE END!
