Post by squibstress on Dec 1, 2010 20:05:07 GMT -5
Winterreisse (1976)
Summary: The Yule Ball offers an unexpected relief from tension between Albus and Minerva, causing her to reflect on the nature of their relationship.
Ratings: 16+
Warnings: Sexual situations; dubious consent
Chapter 1:
It had been a difficult summer, giving way to a tense autumn. Albus Dumbledore was worried and preoccupied with the increasing number of disappearances and open Death Eater attacks. The brazen murder of the Prewett brothers had shaken everyone, especially Minerva, who was quite close to their sister, Molly Weasley.
The Ministry had been unceasing in their requests for Dumbledore to review this plan or that edict, and there was fierce division within the Wizengamot, with some elders wanting to detain and interrogate family members and known associates of suspected Death Eaters. Albus had been vehement in his opposition to this idea, but with each new death, he and his supporters lost more ground.
He and Minerva had hardly seen one another that summer, sometimes encountering each other only during Order meetings at Moody's place for weeks at a time. The running of the school had been left largely to her for the holidays, and despite the fact that it was a far easier task when the students and many of the faculty were away, she had been looking forward to the start of term, in the knowledge it would bring her husband back to Hogwarts, if not to the full assumption of his administrative duties. He was far too busy for it, and as Deputy Headmistress, it was her role to take up the slack. She had had to abandon a promising research project when she realized she there were not enough hours in the day to revise curriculum, tend to staff requests, supervise supplies, and plan budgets, in addition to her extra-curricular work for the Order. Something had to give, and her academic pursuits were the first casualty.
It was probably the combination of anxiety and exhaustion, but she and Albus had been at odds more often than usual, and it seemed to Minerva that whenever they saw one another that autumn, they quarreled. They were not serious rows, but their depressing frequency placed a strain on their relationship to a degree that had not ever happened during their marriage.
Sex had always been an important part of their relationship, and they normally tried to steal a few discreet hours every week to be alone together, even during term. But by the time Minerva had discovered after the fact Sirius Black's attempt to lure Severus Snape to the Shrieking Shack during one of Remus Lupin's transformations, she and Albus had not made love in nearly six weeks. She had tried to shrug it off, but it was putting her on edge.
Black was far from her favorite Gryffindor, and when she found out that Albus had not told her of the incident, and that he had merely set the boy a series of detentions in punishment for his dangerous prank, she was incredibly angry. He had left most serious disciplinary matters—those that could not be handled by the transgressor's Head of House—to her, as he had much else this term, and she had spent entirely too much of her time dealing with the antics of the "marauders," as Black and his friends had come to be known. The fact that Albus had left her completely in the dark about this latest and most serious incident involving them made her feel insignificant and used.
"He deliberately endangered another student's life. Do you honestly think that a few detentions constitute an adequate punishment?" Minerva asked angrily after marching into the Headmaster's office to demand an explanation.
The witch and wizard were looking at one another across the enormous desk.
"Sirius is truly remorseful, and the Snape boy was not, after all, injured," replied Dumbledore.
"Rubbish," she replied. "Sirius Black has never felt a moment's remorse in his life. And as for Severus' narrow escape, that was entirely due to James, who at least seems to have a wee bit o' sense." She was working up to quite a fury, he knew, when her accent became more pronounced. "Sense" sounded like "saince."
"Well, we may hope that some of that sense rubs off, then," the Headmaster replied calmly.
"Are you being deliberately obtuse, Albus? Surely you've noticed that it is Black who influences the others. James and Remus take their cues from him, and little Peter follows him around like a Niffler looking for gold. The others have their share of mischief, no question, but Black is the one who is truly reckless. I think it's high time he was taught a real lesson," she said, her voice rising sharply.
"Minerva, you must take the boy's upbringing into account," Albus replied, a hint of irritation just beginning in his voice. He disliked it when she questioned him on matters of discipline. "He has not had the advantages that most children can take for granted."
"Not had the advantages? His family is one of the wealthiest in Britain, what could he possibly have wanted for?" she asked plaintively.
"Now it is you who are being obtuse," Dumbledore answered coolly. "I meant love and affection, and the care of parents to teach him right from wrong."
She was chastened, but only slightly. She decided to take a new tack.
"And Severus? What advantages has he had? Those boys pick on him mercilessly, and I, for one, think it's time it stopped," she said.
"I don't think it would be doing him any favors to intervene too much. He is not a boy who accepts help willingly, and he will need to learn to fight his own battles if he is to overcome his background," Albus said.
"If he lives that long," she muttered.
Now it was Albus who adopted a new strategy. "I know you are fond of the boy, Slytherin though he is. I suspect it's because he's lonely, and bookish, and very, very smart. Much like you were as a girl," he said.
She was unnerved. "You are daft, man, that boy is nothing like I was. I feel for him because of his appalling circumstances. In truth, he scares me a little. He's intelligent, yes, and immensely talented in some areas, but his interests and way of looking at the world are vastly different from mine."
Albus fixed her with a pointed stare. "Have you stopped to think that you might have developed a similar outlook if you had not had the advantages"—he emphasized the word—"of your father's wealth and position, and, more importantly, his love and guidance?"
"That is rather beside the point," she said icily.
"I think not,” he replied. “You take those advantages for granted, my dear, and you ignore the fact that, growing up without them, Severus and Sirius are cut from similar cloth, whether or not they see it. They're both desperate for love and attention; they just go about getting it differently."
"Be that as it may, Albus, it is no excuse to ignore Sirius' flagrant and persistent violation of school rules," she protested.
"I'm aware of your feelings about rule-breaking, but I recall that there were one or two rather significant ones you were quite willing to shatter during your—seventh year, wasn't it?" he said.
The days he could make her blush with the mention of her brazenness during the months of their clandestine affair were long past. "Albus Dumbledore, the safety of the students is not a joking matter; I'm serious about this," she said angrily.
"So am I," he said, his voice suddenly low and dangerous. "And never imply that I take the safety of the students of this school lightly."
She was silent for a moment. She had crossed the line, and she knew it.
"I apologize, Albus. But I still think Black needs…"
"Leave it, Minerva," he said, warning in his voice.
The battle was lost, she thought. She was not a good loser. "As you wish, Headmaster," she said stonily.
He sighed, and tried to salvage the evening. They had planned to steal a few hours together that night for the first time in weeks. But he was very, very tired, and his attempt to quell her anger flew far wide of the mark. "Minerva, my dear, you've been working so hard lately, what with the preparations for the Yule Ball, your research proposal (You mean the one I abandoned weeks ago? she thought bitterly), and your normal teaching duties. Why don't you have a day off?"
This was too much. "Albus, I don't need…" she began angrily.
"I think we can manage to keep the castle standing without you for one afternoon," he said, ignoring her protest. Gods, how she hated it when he was dismissive!
"I know, why don't you go into Hogsmeade and find yourself a new dress for the ball? Something nicer than the tartan thing you've been wearing for the last ten years. As fetching as you are in it, it is a bit schoolmarm-ish."
She couldn't believe he was shooing her off to go shopping like some idle Ministry wife with nothing but frocks and frivols on her mind. He rarely patronized her like this, but, Circe! it made her white with fury when he did.
"Fine," she answered. She had nothing more to say to this man.
"Good," he said smiling, and rising from his desk. "Have fun, my sweet."
As she left his office quietly seething, she had an idea. Be careful what you wish for, Albus Dumbledore, she thought.
He was not surprised when she didn't appear in his chambers at the appointed hour for their private time. He simply Banished her half of the dinner the house-elves had prepared, and continued with his reading.
Three days later, Minerva was back in her quarters, setting down a package bearing the label "Gladrags, Fine Apparel for the Discerning Witch and Wizard" with a look of smug satisfaction on her face.
She hated shopping of any kind, and found shopping for clothes particularly odious, but she had outdone herself today, she thought. The gown she had finally selected was perfect for her purpose, and it gave her an extra measure of satisfaction that it had cost her more than one month's worth of her wages and Albus' combined.
Her husband and superior would be shocked at how obediently she had followed his suggestion.
"Squee, Minerva, you didn't!" squealed Poppy Pomfrey with delight, when the Transfiguration mistress showed her the result of her shopping trip (and its price tag) three days later.
"I'm very much afraid I did," Minerva grinned at her. The mediwitch could hardly contain her glee. Although she was exceptionally discreet, Poppy loved intrigue, particularly when it involved her best friend, and even more particularly when it involved her best friend getting the better of their mutual boss, who happened to be Minerva's husband.
"Well, go try it on," urged Pomona Sprout. "I want to see!"
Rolanda Hooch, who had joined their small circle of friends that fall, when she had retired from professional Quidditch to take post of Hogwarts' flying instructor, rolled her eyes. All this fuss over a silly dress, she thought. Why not just hit the man over the head and be done with it? The compact, muscular witch was a connoisseur of the finer points of battle on the Quidditch pitch, but was notoriously unsubtle when it came to jousting in other arenas.
When Minerva emerged from her bedroom several minutes later, her three friends sat dumbstruck.
"Well?" Minerva asked nervously. "Is it too much?"
"I'd say it's just about enough," giggled Pomona.
"Yes, a few minor alterations, and it should just about cover your bum," laughed Poppy. "I'd say it's perfect."
Rolanda whistled. "Minerva, if you ever decide to switch teams, promise you'll call me first," she said looking at her friend appreciatively. "You look good enough to eat."
"Thanks, Ro, I just might do that if Albus doesn't appreciate my efforts tonight," said Minerva, grinning.
"Tease," said Rolanda, winking.
The four women broke into gales of laughter.
Summary: The Yule Ball offers an unexpected relief from tension between Albus and Minerva, causing her to reflect on the nature of their relationship.
Ratings: 16+
Warnings: Sexual situations; dubious consent
Chapter 1:
It had been a difficult summer, giving way to a tense autumn. Albus Dumbledore was worried and preoccupied with the increasing number of disappearances and open Death Eater attacks. The brazen murder of the Prewett brothers had shaken everyone, especially Minerva, who was quite close to their sister, Molly Weasley.
The Ministry had been unceasing in their requests for Dumbledore to review this plan or that edict, and there was fierce division within the Wizengamot, with some elders wanting to detain and interrogate family members and known associates of suspected Death Eaters. Albus had been vehement in his opposition to this idea, but with each new death, he and his supporters lost more ground.
He and Minerva had hardly seen one another that summer, sometimes encountering each other only during Order meetings at Moody's place for weeks at a time. The running of the school had been left largely to her for the holidays, and despite the fact that it was a far easier task when the students and many of the faculty were away, she had been looking forward to the start of term, in the knowledge it would bring her husband back to Hogwarts, if not to the full assumption of his administrative duties. He was far too busy for it, and as Deputy Headmistress, it was her role to take up the slack. She had had to abandon a promising research project when she realized she there were not enough hours in the day to revise curriculum, tend to staff requests, supervise supplies, and plan budgets, in addition to her extra-curricular work for the Order. Something had to give, and her academic pursuits were the first casualty.
It was probably the combination of anxiety and exhaustion, but she and Albus had been at odds more often than usual, and it seemed to Minerva that whenever they saw one another that autumn, they quarreled. They were not serious rows, but their depressing frequency placed a strain on their relationship to a degree that had not ever happened during their marriage.
Sex had always been an important part of their relationship, and they normally tried to steal a few discreet hours every week to be alone together, even during term. But by the time Minerva had discovered after the fact Sirius Black's attempt to lure Severus Snape to the Shrieking Shack during one of Remus Lupin's transformations, she and Albus had not made love in nearly six weeks. She had tried to shrug it off, but it was putting her on edge.
Black was far from her favorite Gryffindor, and when she found out that Albus had not told her of the incident, and that he had merely set the boy a series of detentions in punishment for his dangerous prank, she was incredibly angry. He had left most serious disciplinary matters—those that could not be handled by the transgressor's Head of House—to her, as he had much else this term, and she had spent entirely too much of her time dealing with the antics of the "marauders," as Black and his friends had come to be known. The fact that Albus had left her completely in the dark about this latest and most serious incident involving them made her feel insignificant and used.
"He deliberately endangered another student's life. Do you honestly think that a few detentions constitute an adequate punishment?" Minerva asked angrily after marching into the Headmaster's office to demand an explanation.
The witch and wizard were looking at one another across the enormous desk.
"Sirius is truly remorseful, and the Snape boy was not, after all, injured," replied Dumbledore.
"Rubbish," she replied. "Sirius Black has never felt a moment's remorse in his life. And as for Severus' narrow escape, that was entirely due to James, who at least seems to have a wee bit o' sense." She was working up to quite a fury, he knew, when her accent became more pronounced. "Sense" sounded like "saince."
"Well, we may hope that some of that sense rubs off, then," the Headmaster replied calmly.
"Are you being deliberately obtuse, Albus? Surely you've noticed that it is Black who influences the others. James and Remus take their cues from him, and little Peter follows him around like a Niffler looking for gold. The others have their share of mischief, no question, but Black is the one who is truly reckless. I think it's high time he was taught a real lesson," she said, her voice rising sharply.
"Minerva, you must take the boy's upbringing into account," Albus replied, a hint of irritation just beginning in his voice. He disliked it when she questioned him on matters of discipline. "He has not had the advantages that most children can take for granted."
"Not had the advantages? His family is one of the wealthiest in Britain, what could he possibly have wanted for?" she asked plaintively.
"Now it is you who are being obtuse," Dumbledore answered coolly. "I meant love and affection, and the care of parents to teach him right from wrong."
She was chastened, but only slightly. She decided to take a new tack.
"And Severus? What advantages has he had? Those boys pick on him mercilessly, and I, for one, think it's time it stopped," she said.
"I don't think it would be doing him any favors to intervene too much. He is not a boy who accepts help willingly, and he will need to learn to fight his own battles if he is to overcome his background," Albus said.
"If he lives that long," she muttered.
Now it was Albus who adopted a new strategy. "I know you are fond of the boy, Slytherin though he is. I suspect it's because he's lonely, and bookish, and very, very smart. Much like you were as a girl," he said.
She was unnerved. "You are daft, man, that boy is nothing like I was. I feel for him because of his appalling circumstances. In truth, he scares me a little. He's intelligent, yes, and immensely talented in some areas, but his interests and way of looking at the world are vastly different from mine."
Albus fixed her with a pointed stare. "Have you stopped to think that you might have developed a similar outlook if you had not had the advantages"—he emphasized the word—"of your father's wealth and position, and, more importantly, his love and guidance?"
"That is rather beside the point," she said icily.
"I think not,” he replied. “You take those advantages for granted, my dear, and you ignore the fact that, growing up without them, Severus and Sirius are cut from similar cloth, whether or not they see it. They're both desperate for love and attention; they just go about getting it differently."
"Be that as it may, Albus, it is no excuse to ignore Sirius' flagrant and persistent violation of school rules," she protested.
"I'm aware of your feelings about rule-breaking, but I recall that there were one or two rather significant ones you were quite willing to shatter during your—seventh year, wasn't it?" he said.
The days he could make her blush with the mention of her brazenness during the months of their clandestine affair were long past. "Albus Dumbledore, the safety of the students is not a joking matter; I'm serious about this," she said angrily.
"So am I," he said, his voice suddenly low and dangerous. "And never imply that I take the safety of the students of this school lightly."
She was silent for a moment. She had crossed the line, and she knew it.
"I apologize, Albus. But I still think Black needs…"
"Leave it, Minerva," he said, warning in his voice.
The battle was lost, she thought. She was not a good loser. "As you wish, Headmaster," she said stonily.
He sighed, and tried to salvage the evening. They had planned to steal a few hours together that night for the first time in weeks. But he was very, very tired, and his attempt to quell her anger flew far wide of the mark. "Minerva, my dear, you've been working so hard lately, what with the preparations for the Yule Ball, your research proposal (You mean the one I abandoned weeks ago? she thought bitterly), and your normal teaching duties. Why don't you have a day off?"
This was too much. "Albus, I don't need…" she began angrily.
"I think we can manage to keep the castle standing without you for one afternoon," he said, ignoring her protest. Gods, how she hated it when he was dismissive!
"I know, why don't you go into Hogsmeade and find yourself a new dress for the ball? Something nicer than the tartan thing you've been wearing for the last ten years. As fetching as you are in it, it is a bit schoolmarm-ish."
She couldn't believe he was shooing her off to go shopping like some idle Ministry wife with nothing but frocks and frivols on her mind. He rarely patronized her like this, but, Circe! it made her white with fury when he did.
"Fine," she answered. She had nothing more to say to this man.
"Good," he said smiling, and rising from his desk. "Have fun, my sweet."
As she left his office quietly seething, she had an idea. Be careful what you wish for, Albus Dumbledore, she thought.
He was not surprised when she didn't appear in his chambers at the appointed hour for their private time. He simply Banished her half of the dinner the house-elves had prepared, and continued with his reading.
Three days later, Minerva was back in her quarters, setting down a package bearing the label "Gladrags, Fine Apparel for the Discerning Witch and Wizard" with a look of smug satisfaction on her face.
She hated shopping of any kind, and found shopping for clothes particularly odious, but she had outdone herself today, she thought. The gown she had finally selected was perfect for her purpose, and it gave her an extra measure of satisfaction that it had cost her more than one month's worth of her wages and Albus' combined.
Her husband and superior would be shocked at how obediently she had followed his suggestion.
"Squee, Minerva, you didn't!" squealed Poppy Pomfrey with delight, when the Transfiguration mistress showed her the result of her shopping trip (and its price tag) three days later.
"I'm very much afraid I did," Minerva grinned at her. The mediwitch could hardly contain her glee. Although she was exceptionally discreet, Poppy loved intrigue, particularly when it involved her best friend, and even more particularly when it involved her best friend getting the better of their mutual boss, who happened to be Minerva's husband.
"Well, go try it on," urged Pomona Sprout. "I want to see!"
Rolanda Hooch, who had joined their small circle of friends that fall, when she had retired from professional Quidditch to take post of Hogwarts' flying instructor, rolled her eyes. All this fuss over a silly dress, she thought. Why not just hit the man over the head and be done with it? The compact, muscular witch was a connoisseur of the finer points of battle on the Quidditch pitch, but was notoriously unsubtle when it came to jousting in other arenas.
When Minerva emerged from her bedroom several minutes later, her three friends sat dumbstruck.
"Well?" Minerva asked nervously. "Is it too much?"
"I'd say it's just about enough," giggled Pomona.
"Yes, a few minor alterations, and it should just about cover your bum," laughed Poppy. "I'd say it's perfect."
Rolanda whistled. "Minerva, if you ever decide to switch teams, promise you'll call me first," she said looking at her friend appreciatively. "You look good enough to eat."
"Thanks, Ro, I just might do that if Albus doesn't appreciate my efforts tonight," said Minerva, grinning.
"Tease," said Rolanda, winking.
The four women broke into gales of laughter.
I do hope to read more from you in the future. 
