Post by TartanPhoenix on Jul 5, 2007 0:48:01 GMT -5
Disclaimer: The characters that lay within do not, in any fashion, belong to me. They are the property of the all powerful J.K. Rowling.
AN: I don't think this is the right place to post this; please feel free to move it if you happen to agree. It's odd, I know, but it popped up and wouldn't leave me alone.
Punch
She found herself again standing in the middle of a crowd, picking up snatches of conversations as others moved past, trying to figure out what to do with her hands. Her eyes flitted across the faces of those around her, searching for one familiar, but none appeared. She closed her eyes for the briefest of moments before opening them again and biting the inside of her cheek. People continued to move past, not one bothering to stop or look in her direction. Her eyes lit on the large bowl of oddly smoking punch and were somewhat shocked as her feet began to carry her. A common object always made small talk easier. It provided an opening, and cover.
It was cloying as the punch slid down her throat, seeming to stick in her chest as a man came to a stop beside her, reaching for the ladle himself. He jerked the cup away as the liquid passed his lips, leaving just a trace on his mustache. She smiled slightly, glad she wasn’t the only one, before she noticed his eyes watching her in return. Hers immediately dropped back into her punch as she cursed her stupidly. You never make eye contact.
“I must admit myself surprised. I know the Minister is facing criticism due to the tax increases, but I hardly expected him to resort to poisoning the opposition.” He looked ruefully back toward the offending bowl before waving his hand, making cup disappear. “And I do so enjoy punch.”
She could feel her heart speed up, and the ever present tightness in her chest during public events contorted and contracted. As with every new encounter, her mind raced, struggling to find anything to say that wouldn’t make her seem utterly idiotic. She failed again, miserably. “What other choice does he have? A good hit man is just so difficult to find nowadays.”
Once the last syllable left her lips, so did the colour from her face. She eyes grew wide and she clutched her cup for dear life, hoping for the floor to swallow her whole. When it didn’t, she dared to look up, surprised to not suddenly find herself again standing alone. Not only was he still there, but he was staring at her in what could only be described as amazement.
She was about to open her mouth, to say anything that would free her from this self imposed hell when a squeak slipped past his lips. Not long after, his entire body began to shake, and despite the uncertainly and slight panic still warring in her belly, she felt her lips quirk in response.
He stuck out his hand, valiantly trying to keep it steady as a half restrained laugh poured from his lips. “Albus Dumbledore,” he got out.
The punch finally landed with a resounding plop in the pit of her stomach as she reached out her own. She glanced up briefly before settling her eyes just beyond his left shoulder, but she was sure she would never forget that particular shade of blue. “Minerva…Minerva McGonagall.”
AN: I don't think this is the right place to post this; please feel free to move it if you happen to agree. It's odd, I know, but it popped up and wouldn't leave me alone.
Punch
She found herself again standing in the middle of a crowd, picking up snatches of conversations as others moved past, trying to figure out what to do with her hands. Her eyes flitted across the faces of those around her, searching for one familiar, but none appeared. She closed her eyes for the briefest of moments before opening them again and biting the inside of her cheek. People continued to move past, not one bothering to stop or look in her direction. Her eyes lit on the large bowl of oddly smoking punch and were somewhat shocked as her feet began to carry her. A common object always made small talk easier. It provided an opening, and cover.
It was cloying as the punch slid down her throat, seeming to stick in her chest as a man came to a stop beside her, reaching for the ladle himself. He jerked the cup away as the liquid passed his lips, leaving just a trace on his mustache. She smiled slightly, glad she wasn’t the only one, before she noticed his eyes watching her in return. Hers immediately dropped back into her punch as she cursed her stupidly. You never make eye contact.
“I must admit myself surprised. I know the Minister is facing criticism due to the tax increases, but I hardly expected him to resort to poisoning the opposition.” He looked ruefully back toward the offending bowl before waving his hand, making cup disappear. “And I do so enjoy punch.”
She could feel her heart speed up, and the ever present tightness in her chest during public events contorted and contracted. As with every new encounter, her mind raced, struggling to find anything to say that wouldn’t make her seem utterly idiotic. She failed again, miserably. “What other choice does he have? A good hit man is just so difficult to find nowadays.”
Once the last syllable left her lips, so did the colour from her face. She eyes grew wide and she clutched her cup for dear life, hoping for the floor to swallow her whole. When it didn’t, she dared to look up, surprised to not suddenly find herself again standing alone. Not only was he still there, but he was staring at her in what could only be described as amazement.
She was about to open her mouth, to say anything that would free her from this self imposed hell when a squeak slipped past his lips. Not long after, his entire body began to shake, and despite the uncertainly and slight panic still warring in her belly, she felt her lips quirk in response.
He stuck out his hand, valiantly trying to keep it steady as a half restrained laugh poured from his lips. “Albus Dumbledore,” he got out.
The punch finally landed with a resounding plop in the pit of her stomach as she reached out her own. She glanced up briefly before settling her eyes just beyond his left shoulder, but she was sure she would never forget that particular shade of blue. “Minerva…Minerva McGonagall.”
Very cute and fluffy!
;D
