Post by pinkie on Oct 17, 2006 9:45:42 GMT -5
Hi everybody!
It has been a long time since I have posted, but I have been reading all your posts regularly and I love them! In fact, it has given me a bit of writer's block as well as huge inspiration! Please don't be too harsh - I've just climbed back into the saddle...
I have written this story, but I don't know how to end it! Perhaps some of you have an idea that can help me...
Usual disclaimers - it's alright for everyone to read - summary: waiting for Albus, really...
Sometimes, school is just school: preparing lessons, giving them and correcting after. Minerva’s days were filled with paper, parchment and the ocassional left behind quill. Some of them could be quite sticky, especially the ones that were left between sheets of Weasley homework. Sugar quills were a favourite of George and often ruined his homework. A shame really, because George had a distinct knack for Transfiguration. Fred on the other hand was exceptionally good at potions. Nowadays the school was quiet: Fred and George had left the building.
Minerva looked up from the pile of parchment and sighed.
What a schoolyear it had been, the year the Weasley-twins had left. Unconsciensly she stroked the marks on her upper chest and thought about the loneliness that surrounded her in the year that Umbridge had terrorised and dictated the school.
This year hadn’t started well, with He-Who-Must-Be-Named being stronger than ever, gathering more and more followers. Minerva somehow wasn’t even that worried about that. She had seen it all before and he hadn’t much changed his strategy. She knew that eventually she and her peers would conquer again. She was very worried about Albus though. That hand… She decided not to dwell on such thoughts and returned to her work and planted a big A on Neville Longbottom’s piece on ‘Needles, hedgehogs and how to transfigure the one into the other’.
Minerva always corrected her students’ work in her classroom, where she wouldn’t be disturbed or interrupted. The last E went under Hermione’s work and Minerva stood up from her chair. The spartan design had left its mark, since her bum was nearly numb. She chuckled as she thought it and told herself to remember the little rhyme for when Albus would return.
If he would return.
In her chambers she lit a few candles and conjured up some tea and ginger newts. She petted Fawkes and sat down on the sofa. She relaxed her shoulders and neck. How she wished tonight Albus would come home to her. She missed him and she was very worried for him. Especially with his hand being so badly disfigured. She was aware that he was tired and therefore not as quick as he used to be. Shocking as it was, but Albus was an old man. She herself was an old woman.
Minerva’s eyes lingered on the picureframes on the mantlepiece. Her son and two daughters, her grandchildren, friends and other family, they sat steadily in the backgrounds. The young children sometimes played tag or hide and seek, but the grown-ups often waved and at night they slept.
One picture stood out. A heavy silver frame held the most important picture and Minerva took it from the ledge and held it against her chest.
Her weddingpicture. Four months pregnant with her eldest daughter. As happy as she ever thought she was going to be.
Her mind wandered to the days in which she and Albus had just been together. Ages it took Albus to finally ask her out, but when he had asked her, she had been overjoyed. Nervous too. Normally she wouldn’t think twice about what to wear, but for that date she stood in front of her closet for over an hour. She had put on clothes and changed three times before deciding on a soft pink mohair sweater and a black skirt.
He picked her up and they walked to Hogsmeade, almost in silence, because the nerves had run through both their throats as it later came out. They had gone to Rosmerta’s and enjoyed their butterbeer and gillywater. They talked about music, ancient runes (Minerva’s subject) and Quidditch. On their way back, Albus had kissed her.
The kissing had soon turned into more heated sessions. Minerva discovered she had a passionate fire burning inside her, she had never would have guessed was there. She could long for Albus’ touch like a man could long for water in the desert.
Minerva looked up from her photograph and took a sip of tea. She stroked Albus face through the glass of the frame. She wondered if he remembered their first time together. She did. She remembered every single moment. Naturally she knew she wasn’t the first for him and she assumed he knew he wasn’t her first, but when he touched her, all the things she thought she knew, suddenly vanished and she had lost every account of time and place. Heavenly, that was how she remembered her first time with Albus.
She stood up from the sofa and placed the frame back on the mantlepiece. Her little grandchildren waved. Minerva smiled at the happy faces. Oh, the birth of their mothers and father… Everytime she had told Albus it would be the last time he would ever lay a hand on her. She had caved. Who wouldn’t have?
Minerva turned away from the sitting area and walked to the bedroom. The air there was cool and crisp. No matter what weather, she kept the windows open. She started to undress and took of her teaching robes and sobre black dress. She sat down on the bed to remove her stockings and took off her slip. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and quickly looked the other way. The marks on her chest were still all too visible.
In the bathroom she cleaned her teeth and brushed her long hair. There was more and more silver between the raven. In fact, nowadays it seemed like there was some raven between the silver… She smiled at herself in the mirror. ‘Darling, we’re getting old…” she whispered.
Minerva climbed into bed after shedding the last few garments. She loved how the clean sheets felt against her naked skin. She stretched and yawned a bit. Carefully she placed her wand under her pillow and curled up in fetal position. She fell asleep.
Something stirred in the room. Minerva hardly registered it, but it woke her nonetheless. She grabbed her wand and waited. The form that had stirred, came closer. She heard the rusling of robes. Minerva slowly turned to her back, ready to leap if necessary. Suddenly, the smell of lemon reached her nose and indeed she leaped from the bed. “Albus!” she almost shrieked as she threw herself into his arms. “Darling…” Albus’ arms closed around his wife’s naked form and hugged her tight. She kissed him repeatedly. He kissed her back with such intensity it almost hurt. When he let her go, she was grasping for air and couldn’t hold back anymore, she tore his robes and pushed him to the bed. “Oh, how I longed for you…” she whispered hoarsly. “And I for you.”
*How am I supposed to end this story? Should I write a lemon?*
It has been a long time since I have posted, but I have been reading all your posts regularly and I love them! In fact, it has given me a bit of writer's block as well as huge inspiration! Please don't be too harsh - I've just climbed back into the saddle...
I have written this story, but I don't know how to end it! Perhaps some of you have an idea that can help me...
Usual disclaimers - it's alright for everyone to read - summary: waiting for Albus, really...
Sometimes, school is just school: preparing lessons, giving them and correcting after. Minerva’s days were filled with paper, parchment and the ocassional left behind quill. Some of them could be quite sticky, especially the ones that were left between sheets of Weasley homework. Sugar quills were a favourite of George and often ruined his homework. A shame really, because George had a distinct knack for Transfiguration. Fred on the other hand was exceptionally good at potions. Nowadays the school was quiet: Fred and George had left the building.
Minerva looked up from the pile of parchment and sighed.
What a schoolyear it had been, the year the Weasley-twins had left. Unconsciensly she stroked the marks on her upper chest and thought about the loneliness that surrounded her in the year that Umbridge had terrorised and dictated the school.
This year hadn’t started well, with He-Who-Must-Be-Named being stronger than ever, gathering more and more followers. Minerva somehow wasn’t even that worried about that. She had seen it all before and he hadn’t much changed his strategy. She knew that eventually she and her peers would conquer again. She was very worried about Albus though. That hand… She decided not to dwell on such thoughts and returned to her work and planted a big A on Neville Longbottom’s piece on ‘Needles, hedgehogs and how to transfigure the one into the other’.
Minerva always corrected her students’ work in her classroom, where she wouldn’t be disturbed or interrupted. The last E went under Hermione’s work and Minerva stood up from her chair. The spartan design had left its mark, since her bum was nearly numb. She chuckled as she thought it and told herself to remember the little rhyme for when Albus would return.
If he would return.
In her chambers she lit a few candles and conjured up some tea and ginger newts. She petted Fawkes and sat down on the sofa. She relaxed her shoulders and neck. How she wished tonight Albus would come home to her. She missed him and she was very worried for him. Especially with his hand being so badly disfigured. She was aware that he was tired and therefore not as quick as he used to be. Shocking as it was, but Albus was an old man. She herself was an old woman.
Minerva’s eyes lingered on the picureframes on the mantlepiece. Her son and two daughters, her grandchildren, friends and other family, they sat steadily in the backgrounds. The young children sometimes played tag or hide and seek, but the grown-ups often waved and at night they slept.
One picture stood out. A heavy silver frame held the most important picture and Minerva took it from the ledge and held it against her chest.
Her weddingpicture. Four months pregnant with her eldest daughter. As happy as she ever thought she was going to be.
Her mind wandered to the days in which she and Albus had just been together. Ages it took Albus to finally ask her out, but when he had asked her, she had been overjoyed. Nervous too. Normally she wouldn’t think twice about what to wear, but for that date she stood in front of her closet for over an hour. She had put on clothes and changed three times before deciding on a soft pink mohair sweater and a black skirt.
He picked her up and they walked to Hogsmeade, almost in silence, because the nerves had run through both their throats as it later came out. They had gone to Rosmerta’s and enjoyed their butterbeer and gillywater. They talked about music, ancient runes (Minerva’s subject) and Quidditch. On their way back, Albus had kissed her.
The kissing had soon turned into more heated sessions. Minerva discovered she had a passionate fire burning inside her, she had never would have guessed was there. She could long for Albus’ touch like a man could long for water in the desert.
Minerva looked up from her photograph and took a sip of tea. She stroked Albus face through the glass of the frame. She wondered if he remembered their first time together. She did. She remembered every single moment. Naturally she knew she wasn’t the first for him and she assumed he knew he wasn’t her first, but when he touched her, all the things she thought she knew, suddenly vanished and she had lost every account of time and place. Heavenly, that was how she remembered her first time with Albus.
She stood up from the sofa and placed the frame back on the mantlepiece. Her little grandchildren waved. Minerva smiled at the happy faces. Oh, the birth of their mothers and father… Everytime she had told Albus it would be the last time he would ever lay a hand on her. She had caved. Who wouldn’t have?
Minerva turned away from the sitting area and walked to the bedroom. The air there was cool and crisp. No matter what weather, she kept the windows open. She started to undress and took of her teaching robes and sobre black dress. She sat down on the bed to remove her stockings and took off her slip. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and quickly looked the other way. The marks on her chest were still all too visible.
In the bathroom she cleaned her teeth and brushed her long hair. There was more and more silver between the raven. In fact, nowadays it seemed like there was some raven between the silver… She smiled at herself in the mirror. ‘Darling, we’re getting old…” she whispered.
Minerva climbed into bed after shedding the last few garments. She loved how the clean sheets felt against her naked skin. She stretched and yawned a bit. Carefully she placed her wand under her pillow and curled up in fetal position. She fell asleep.
Something stirred in the room. Minerva hardly registered it, but it woke her nonetheless. She grabbed her wand and waited. The form that had stirred, came closer. She heard the rusling of robes. Minerva slowly turned to her back, ready to leap if necessary. Suddenly, the smell of lemon reached her nose and indeed she leaped from the bed. “Albus!” she almost shrieked as she threw herself into his arms. “Darling…” Albus’ arms closed around his wife’s naked form and hugged her tight. She kissed him repeatedly. He kissed her back with such intensity it almost hurt. When he let her go, she was grasping for air and couldn’t hold back anymore, she tore his robes and pushed him to the bed. “Oh, how I longed for you…” she whispered hoarsly. “And I for you.”
*How am I supposed to end this story? Should I write a lemon?*
The story is wonderfully written! I love it!
