Post by Pingpongfreak on Jul 30, 2007 20:40:29 GMT -5
Ok so I know I should be updating my other fic, but this little bunny just wouldn't leave me alone, so I had to make some rabbit stew! ;D
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Minerva set her glasses on the desk in front of her and let her face fall into her hands, rubbing her eyes. This month had been yet another exhausting month, this week had been yet another exhausting week, and, no doubt, today was going to be yet another exhausting day. And on top of it all, another bloody interview was in order. Ugh.
She raised her head from her hands to look out the window. The sun seemed to just be opening its eyes, awakening everyone and everything around it. The birds were chirping, the squirrels were skittering, and the grass glistened with the remnants of the morning dew.
It was actually quite irritating.
Minerva hated the mornings. Not that she’d let anyone know, of course. She had a reputation to maintain. No, mornings had become quite loathsome. They reminded her of too much, too many things…
An abrupt knock shook Minerva from her thoughts.
“Come in,” Minerva called, shuffling her glasses back onto her nose.
The door cracked, and a pair of bloodshot eyes peered into the room.
“Is that you, Minerva?”
“Honestly, Jo, who else would it be?”
The door opened further until a rather harassed-looking J K Rowling slipped into the room, closing the door behind her, adding, “Well, it’s always good to be safe. I never can tell who’s doing what these days.”
Minerva smirked, “Well, I suppose that’s what you get for creating such complex characters.”
Jo nodded, not fully comprehending what had been said. “Do you mind if I sit down?” she asked.
“By all means,” Minerva replied, motioning with her hand to a chair directly in front of her desk. Jo practically fell into the chair, fumbling with bits of crumpled paper from her pocket.
“Right then, “ she said, pulling a crumpled piece of paper out of her pocket and smoothing it on the desk, “I’m sure you know why I’m here.”
“Yes,” Minerva replied shortly.
“Brilliant,” she said with a pseudo-eager smile, pushing her glasses further up her nose and examining the paper,” On with the first question, then?”
Minerva eyed her curiously, pulling out her wand, “Surely you’d care for a drink?”
Jo pried her bloodshot eyes from the paper and looked at Minerva for the first time. Looking as though she would have liked to protest, she gave a somewhat resigned sigh and placed her glasses on the desk. “Yes, I suppose a cup of tea couldn’t hurt.”
Minerva conjured two cups of tea with a flick of her wrist, grabbing her cup and easing back into her chair. As the first sips of mint-green tea touched their lips, both women sighed contentedly and shared a moment a silence, relishing in the rare moment of relaxation.
“So how’re things?” Minerva asked, inclining her slightly.
Jo nodded silently for a moment, then raised an eyebrow, as if trying to decide on a proper word. “Trying…very trying.”
“I know what you mean,” Minerva replied, “Being headmistress is a lot more difficult than I’d presumed,” she chuckled, taking another sip of her tea, “At least I know I won’t be doing this in nineteen years.”
“Speak for yourself,” Jo said, “I’ve got an encyclopedia to write. Literally.”
The two women once again found themselves with nothing to say.
“So,” Jo said, looking around, “ I suppose now would a good time to start the interview, what say you?”
“If you must,” Minerva replied dryly. She so loathed the ridiculous questions muggle readers came up with.
Jo put her glasses back on, examining the paper once again, “There aren’t that many this time, Minerva, don’t be so sour.”
“I’m sure,” she replied unenthusiastically.
“Alright then, let’s see,” Jo said, “Question number one. Did you ever encounter Tom Riddle while you were a student?”
Minerva raised her eyebrows. “Yes. Once. I dropped my pen. He picked it up for me. We never spoke again.”
“Right,” Jo said, scribbling on the piece of paper, “Are you allergic to anything?”
“Anything containing ashwinder egg. But I suppose that’s not much to complain about, seeing as I would have to be fed an extremely powerful love potion-“
“Would you ever consider buying The Three Broomsticks?” Jo interrupted.
Minerva was taken aback. “Well I...I don’t suppose so, I guess I’ve never really thought about it-“
“How did the death of Albus Dumbledore affect you?”
Both women fell silent.
Jo was hit with an instant wave of guilt. “Minerva, I…I’m sorry, I was just reading them off the-“
“It was hard,” Minerva interrupted this time, her lip in a thin line, “Very hard.”
Jo nodded silently, fidgeting with her thumbs. This was always a touchy subject with any of her characters. It would always be her fault he died, to everyone inclidung herself, but she couldn’t help but feel especially guilty this time.
“Listen, about Albus, I didn’t mean-“
Minerva held up a hand, stopping Jo mid-sentence. “Don’t,” she said quietly, giving a wistful smile, “Shit happens.”
Jo nodded uncertainly, but plastered a grin on her face and buried her head back into her notes. “Alright,” she said, trying to cover the awkwardness in her voice, “Er...last question then…Ah yes, were you-“
Jo stopped mid-sentence, her eyes quickly averting from the paper to Minerva. She quickly plastered another smile on her face, shuffling her papers and rising from her seat.
“You know, I think that’s enough, surely I’ve got everything else covered, but it was nice-“
“What were you going to ask me, Jo?” Minerva asked quietly.
Jo fell silent and bit her lip, grimacing in thought. She shook her head. “It really isn’t relevant, I mean, there are plenty of other-“
“Oh come off it,” Minerva said a bit impatiently, “You’ve already begun the question, you might as well finish it.”
Jo still looked reluctant, but sunk back into her seat, looking Minerva cautiously in the eye. “Are you,” she began, “Well, were you…”
“Yes?” Minerva asked, drumming her fingers.
“Were you in love with Albus?” she blurted out, then quickly looked away.
Minerva’s breath hitched in her throat as her face went white. She suddenly found her office window very interesting, as her gaze was fixated upon something beyond the window that was nonexistent.
Did she love him? What an idiotic question. What a stupid, outrageous, disrespectful, irrelevant question. Anger began to build inside her as she turned her gaze back to Jo, her lips pulled into a thin line once again.
“Well?” Jo asked a bit nervously.
“Oh, honestly, Jo!” Minerva snapped, “No! Not everybody falls in love with everybody else!”
“Alright, I’m sorry!” said Jo, raising her hands in surrender, “It was just a question. I’m sorry.”
“And a stupid one at that,” Minerva grumbled, “Honestly…”
Jo sighed heavily, shuffling her papers, “Well, I better be off,” she rose from her chair, “I’ve got to find out if the Chuddely Cannons will ever win the Quidditch World Cup.” She chuckled in hopes of lightening the mood. When nothing came in return, she let out a low wistle and made her way to the door.
And with a light “Toodles”, she was gone, and Minerva was left in the silence of her lie. A squirrel perched outside her window held an acorn and glared at her.
“What?” she asked him, “I was never in love.” He continued to glare. She ignored him.
After a long moment of glaring, the squirrel gave up, concluding that this woman was obviously a lost cause. And as he turned to look for a place to hide his acorn, he thought he heard a voice muttering,
“At least out loud I wasn’t.”
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Minerva set her glasses on the desk in front of her and let her face fall into her hands, rubbing her eyes. This month had been yet another exhausting month, this week had been yet another exhausting week, and, no doubt, today was going to be yet another exhausting day. And on top of it all, another bloody interview was in order. Ugh.
She raised her head from her hands to look out the window. The sun seemed to just be opening its eyes, awakening everyone and everything around it. The birds were chirping, the squirrels were skittering, and the grass glistened with the remnants of the morning dew.
It was actually quite irritating.
Minerva hated the mornings. Not that she’d let anyone know, of course. She had a reputation to maintain. No, mornings had become quite loathsome. They reminded her of too much, too many things…
An abrupt knock shook Minerva from her thoughts.
“Come in,” Minerva called, shuffling her glasses back onto her nose.
The door cracked, and a pair of bloodshot eyes peered into the room.
“Is that you, Minerva?”
“Honestly, Jo, who else would it be?”
The door opened further until a rather harassed-looking J K Rowling slipped into the room, closing the door behind her, adding, “Well, it’s always good to be safe. I never can tell who’s doing what these days.”
Minerva smirked, “Well, I suppose that’s what you get for creating such complex characters.”
Jo nodded, not fully comprehending what had been said. “Do you mind if I sit down?” she asked.
“By all means,” Minerva replied, motioning with her hand to a chair directly in front of her desk. Jo practically fell into the chair, fumbling with bits of crumpled paper from her pocket.
“Right then, “ she said, pulling a crumpled piece of paper out of her pocket and smoothing it on the desk, “I’m sure you know why I’m here.”
“Yes,” Minerva replied shortly.
“Brilliant,” she said with a pseudo-eager smile, pushing her glasses further up her nose and examining the paper,” On with the first question, then?”
Minerva eyed her curiously, pulling out her wand, “Surely you’d care for a drink?”
Jo pried her bloodshot eyes from the paper and looked at Minerva for the first time. Looking as though she would have liked to protest, she gave a somewhat resigned sigh and placed her glasses on the desk. “Yes, I suppose a cup of tea couldn’t hurt.”
Minerva conjured two cups of tea with a flick of her wrist, grabbing her cup and easing back into her chair. As the first sips of mint-green tea touched their lips, both women sighed contentedly and shared a moment a silence, relishing in the rare moment of relaxation.
“So how’re things?” Minerva asked, inclining her slightly.
Jo nodded silently for a moment, then raised an eyebrow, as if trying to decide on a proper word. “Trying…very trying.”
“I know what you mean,” Minerva replied, “Being headmistress is a lot more difficult than I’d presumed,” she chuckled, taking another sip of her tea, “At least I know I won’t be doing this in nineteen years.”
“Speak for yourself,” Jo said, “I’ve got an encyclopedia to write. Literally.”
The two women once again found themselves with nothing to say.
“So,” Jo said, looking around, “ I suppose now would a good time to start the interview, what say you?”
“If you must,” Minerva replied dryly. She so loathed the ridiculous questions muggle readers came up with.
Jo put her glasses back on, examining the paper once again, “There aren’t that many this time, Minerva, don’t be so sour.”
“I’m sure,” she replied unenthusiastically.
“Alright then, let’s see,” Jo said, “Question number one. Did you ever encounter Tom Riddle while you were a student?”
Minerva raised her eyebrows. “Yes. Once. I dropped my pen. He picked it up for me. We never spoke again.”
“Right,” Jo said, scribbling on the piece of paper, “Are you allergic to anything?”
“Anything containing ashwinder egg. But I suppose that’s not much to complain about, seeing as I would have to be fed an extremely powerful love potion-“
“Would you ever consider buying The Three Broomsticks?” Jo interrupted.
Minerva was taken aback. “Well I...I don’t suppose so, I guess I’ve never really thought about it-“
“How did the death of Albus Dumbledore affect you?”
Both women fell silent.
Jo was hit with an instant wave of guilt. “Minerva, I…I’m sorry, I was just reading them off the-“
“It was hard,” Minerva interrupted this time, her lip in a thin line, “Very hard.”
Jo nodded silently, fidgeting with her thumbs. This was always a touchy subject with any of her characters. It would always be her fault he died, to everyone inclidung herself, but she couldn’t help but feel especially guilty this time.
“Listen, about Albus, I didn’t mean-“
Minerva held up a hand, stopping Jo mid-sentence. “Don’t,” she said quietly, giving a wistful smile, “Shit happens.”
Jo nodded uncertainly, but plastered a grin on her face and buried her head back into her notes. “Alright,” she said, trying to cover the awkwardness in her voice, “Er...last question then…Ah yes, were you-“
Jo stopped mid-sentence, her eyes quickly averting from the paper to Minerva. She quickly plastered another smile on her face, shuffling her papers and rising from her seat.
“You know, I think that’s enough, surely I’ve got everything else covered, but it was nice-“
“What were you going to ask me, Jo?” Minerva asked quietly.
Jo fell silent and bit her lip, grimacing in thought. She shook her head. “It really isn’t relevant, I mean, there are plenty of other-“
“Oh come off it,” Minerva said a bit impatiently, “You’ve already begun the question, you might as well finish it.”
Jo still looked reluctant, but sunk back into her seat, looking Minerva cautiously in the eye. “Are you,” she began, “Well, were you…”
“Yes?” Minerva asked, drumming her fingers.
“Were you in love with Albus?” she blurted out, then quickly looked away.
Minerva’s breath hitched in her throat as her face went white. She suddenly found her office window very interesting, as her gaze was fixated upon something beyond the window that was nonexistent.
Did she love him? What an idiotic question. What a stupid, outrageous, disrespectful, irrelevant question. Anger began to build inside her as she turned her gaze back to Jo, her lips pulled into a thin line once again.
“Well?” Jo asked a bit nervously.
“Oh, honestly, Jo!” Minerva snapped, “No! Not everybody falls in love with everybody else!”
“Alright, I’m sorry!” said Jo, raising her hands in surrender, “It was just a question. I’m sorry.”
“And a stupid one at that,” Minerva grumbled, “Honestly…”
Jo sighed heavily, shuffling her papers, “Well, I better be off,” she rose from her chair, “I’ve got to find out if the Chuddely Cannons will ever win the Quidditch World Cup.” She chuckled in hopes of lightening the mood. When nothing came in return, she let out a low wistle and made her way to the door.
And with a light “Toodles”, she was gone, and Minerva was left in the silence of her lie. A squirrel perched outside her window held an acorn and glared at her.
“What?” she asked him, “I was never in love.” He continued to glare. She ignored him.
After a long moment of glaring, the squirrel gave up, concluding that this woman was obviously a lost cause. And as he turned to look for a place to hide his acorn, he thought he heard a voice muttering,
“At least out loud I wasn’t.”
