Post by Aurinko on Feb 11, 2005 15:50:27 GMT -5
I wrote this awhile ago as a response to a challenge on this board. Having finally gotten up the courage to join and try and figure out how to post stuff, I'm posting it here, too (it was originally posted on FF.net).
Summary: The night of Minerva McGonagall’s graduation ball, a few truths come to light. Pure fluff.
And the one step and he's sliding
And the two steps and she's gliding
Three and the one and the two
And then they float in the air
Rolanda Hooch could count the number of times she’d been caught speechless—exactly never. But as she and her two best friends—and the rest of the school—stared at their other best friend out on the dance floor, all she could do was gape.
“It’s so sweet!” Poppy Calloway cried suddenly, wiping away an errant tear with the back of her hand.
Beside her, Serena Rowe shook her head and gave a low, admiring whistle. “Never would’ve thought you had it in you, Min…to have fooled the entire school—and us—for a year! It’s a feat worthy of a Slytherin, my Gryffindor friend…”
Only at the conclusion of the ball did Rolanda regained use of her tongue. Unbelievable,” she breathed after the double doors closed behind them. “Absolutely unbelievable.”
Side to side and she shows him
Back and forth ’cause she knows him
Round and round again
All that see them can't help but stare
In the center of the Great Hall, oblivious to the attention they were gathering, Head Girl Minerva McGonagall and Professor Albus Dumbledore were dancing—if what they were doing could be called dancing. The slow, soft strains of a waltz echoed in the air around them as they followed the steps to the dance, and yet...there was more than that—they were more.
’Cause everyone knows they're in love
Everyone knows they're in love
Yes and everyone knows they're in love
By the way they dance
It was there in the way they moved; not as two people, one following the other, but as two halves of a whole that slid and spun in unison with a timing too good to be called perfect. It was there in the tiny half-smile on her face and in the blaze in his eyes. It was there in everything that they did; it was everything that they were. It was, quite simply, love.
Cheek to cheek ’cause he needs her
Hand in hand as he leads her
Face to face ’cause they know
They'll never dance alone
Poppy’s eyes widened, Serena sucked in a shocked breath, and Rolanda—Rolanda stood, dumbfounded, as Minerva McGonagall—fiery, proud, fiercely independent Minerva McGonagall—closed her eyes and rested her head against her professor’s chest, clearly trusting in him to lead her safely. He, in turn, pulled her closer and bent his head slightly to plant a feather-light kiss on her dark hair. The trio watched as Minerva’s half-smile widened a bit before Professor Dumbledore spun her away from them. Throughout the entire exchange, the two of them never missed a step.
’Cause everyone knows they're in love
Everyone knows they're in love
Yes and everyone knows they're in love
By the way they dance
Glancing around the Hall, Rolanda realized instantly that more than half the couples in attendance had discreetly exited the floor and now stood watching their Head Girl and favorite professor in a mixture of shock, awe, disgust, and envy. The couple in the center, however, continued floating their way through the dance without a second glance. It was as if they were in another world, so engrossed in each other that nothing else existed for them. Having seen the look in Professor Dumbledore’s eyes when he had bent to kiss the top of Minerva’s head, Rolanda could fully believe it. If any man looked at her that way…Rolanda shook her head incredulously. How had Minerva managed not to melt in class all this time?
By the way she moves in circles
Ever so sweetly she wins him completely
Minerva smiled up at the man in her arms, and Rolanda could feel half the hall tremble. She was magnificent.
Though Rolanda would have liked to take credit for the Head Girl’s “transformation,” she was forced to admit that Professor Dumbledore—how in Merlin’s name had they missed this?—deserved the honors. Their friend had never believed herself beautiful, but a few words from Dumbledore had accomplished what they had been working on for two weeks: Minerva had agreed to come to the ball in that dress and with her hair down.
After two hours of arguing, pleading, and threatening from Rolanda, Serena, and Poppy, Minerva had finally bought the dress, and it was worth every knut. Blue-violet velvet so dark that it appeared black in the candlelight showed off her slender form nicely, while a graceful swan-neck of embroidered Gryffindor red provided the “decency” Minerva insisted on. Gorgeous sleeves of the same deep red opened at her elbow, adding a mythical quality to the gown and its wearer. The end result was the goddess before them, and there was a sparkle about Minerva tonight that Rolanda had never seen before.
By the way he holds her so gracefully
The hand that he lends her is able and tender
Never a step to chance
Professor Dumbledore, as the current hero of the Wizarding World, needed no further qualifications to become Britain’s most eligible bachelor. Still, the man had received a record forty-six Valentine’s Day cards from his female students of all years before his battle with Grindelwald. He claimed that he was 105 years old, but most students thought this a fiction to deter the love-stricken young ladies from pursuing him as he looked no older than thirty-five. Tall and lean, with auburn hair and bright blue eyes, it was no surprise that the new Transfiguration teacher had attracted attention.
If Minerva was a goddess tonight, there was no doubt in anyone’s mind that Professor Dumbledore was her immortal consort. His dark blue and silver robes matched hers perfectly, though Rolanda had been certain that he had not seen Minerva’s dress until tonight. Just the way he was leading her about the dance floor had more than a few women—including herself, if she was honest—sick with jealousy. The god held his goddess close, led with strength and surety, and yet projected an air of such tenderness that Rolanda was certain that she was imagining it…until they drew closer again. For Professor Dumbledore was tracing soft circles on Minerva’s back as they swayed to the music, and holding her as if she were made of spun glass.
’Cause everyone knows they're in love
By the way they dance
They were a perfect match. Rolanda Hooch, Serena Rowe, and Poppy Calloway looked at each other, stunned disbelief reflected in three pairs of eyes. Minerva McGonagall had a hell of a lot of explaining to do tomorrow.
’Cause everyone knows they're in love
Everyone knows they're in love
Yes and everyone knows they're in love
By the way they dance
“Minerva,” he whispered gently, feeling her smile against his face.
“Albus.” His heart leaped at nothing more than the sound of his name in that slight Scottish accent he loved so much. “They’re all staring,” she said, with that soft uncertainty in her voice that only he was allowed to hear.
He chuckled. “Let them,” he said carelessly, pulling her closer. “Tha gaol agam ort.”
“Forever, gràdh.”
’Cause everyone knows they're in love
Everyone knows they're in love
Yes and everyone knows they're in love
By the way they dance
Scottish Gaelic:
Tha gaol agam ort. = “I love you.”
gràdh = love
Well, there it is. My first post.
Summary: The night of Minerva McGonagall’s graduation ball, a few truths come to light. Pure fluff.
And the one step and he's sliding
And the two steps and she's gliding
Three and the one and the two
And then they float in the air
Rolanda Hooch could count the number of times she’d been caught speechless—exactly never. But as she and her two best friends—and the rest of the school—stared at their other best friend out on the dance floor, all she could do was gape.
“It’s so sweet!” Poppy Calloway cried suddenly, wiping away an errant tear with the back of her hand.
Beside her, Serena Rowe shook her head and gave a low, admiring whistle. “Never would’ve thought you had it in you, Min…to have fooled the entire school—and us—for a year! It’s a feat worthy of a Slytherin, my Gryffindor friend…”
Only at the conclusion of the ball did Rolanda regained use of her tongue. Unbelievable,” she breathed after the double doors closed behind them. “Absolutely unbelievable.”
Side to side and she shows him
Back and forth ’cause she knows him
Round and round again
All that see them can't help but stare
In the center of the Great Hall, oblivious to the attention they were gathering, Head Girl Minerva McGonagall and Professor Albus Dumbledore were dancing—if what they were doing could be called dancing. The slow, soft strains of a waltz echoed in the air around them as they followed the steps to the dance, and yet...there was more than that—they were more.
’Cause everyone knows they're in love
Everyone knows they're in love
Yes and everyone knows they're in love
By the way they dance
It was there in the way they moved; not as two people, one following the other, but as two halves of a whole that slid and spun in unison with a timing too good to be called perfect. It was there in the tiny half-smile on her face and in the blaze in his eyes. It was there in everything that they did; it was everything that they were. It was, quite simply, love.
Cheek to cheek ’cause he needs her
Hand in hand as he leads her
Face to face ’cause they know
They'll never dance alone
Poppy’s eyes widened, Serena sucked in a shocked breath, and Rolanda—Rolanda stood, dumbfounded, as Minerva McGonagall—fiery, proud, fiercely independent Minerva McGonagall—closed her eyes and rested her head against her professor’s chest, clearly trusting in him to lead her safely. He, in turn, pulled her closer and bent his head slightly to plant a feather-light kiss on her dark hair. The trio watched as Minerva’s half-smile widened a bit before Professor Dumbledore spun her away from them. Throughout the entire exchange, the two of them never missed a step.
’Cause everyone knows they're in love
Everyone knows they're in love
Yes and everyone knows they're in love
By the way they dance
Glancing around the Hall, Rolanda realized instantly that more than half the couples in attendance had discreetly exited the floor and now stood watching their Head Girl and favorite professor in a mixture of shock, awe, disgust, and envy. The couple in the center, however, continued floating their way through the dance without a second glance. It was as if they were in another world, so engrossed in each other that nothing else existed for them. Having seen the look in Professor Dumbledore’s eyes when he had bent to kiss the top of Minerva’s head, Rolanda could fully believe it. If any man looked at her that way…Rolanda shook her head incredulously. How had Minerva managed not to melt in class all this time?
By the way she moves in circles
Ever so sweetly she wins him completely
Minerva smiled up at the man in her arms, and Rolanda could feel half the hall tremble. She was magnificent.
Though Rolanda would have liked to take credit for the Head Girl’s “transformation,” she was forced to admit that Professor Dumbledore—how in Merlin’s name had they missed this?—deserved the honors. Their friend had never believed herself beautiful, but a few words from Dumbledore had accomplished what they had been working on for two weeks: Minerva had agreed to come to the ball in that dress and with her hair down.
After two hours of arguing, pleading, and threatening from Rolanda, Serena, and Poppy, Minerva had finally bought the dress, and it was worth every knut. Blue-violet velvet so dark that it appeared black in the candlelight showed off her slender form nicely, while a graceful swan-neck of embroidered Gryffindor red provided the “decency” Minerva insisted on. Gorgeous sleeves of the same deep red opened at her elbow, adding a mythical quality to the gown and its wearer. The end result was the goddess before them, and there was a sparkle about Minerva tonight that Rolanda had never seen before.
By the way he holds her so gracefully
The hand that he lends her is able and tender
Never a step to chance
Professor Dumbledore, as the current hero of the Wizarding World, needed no further qualifications to become Britain’s most eligible bachelor. Still, the man had received a record forty-six Valentine’s Day cards from his female students of all years before his battle with Grindelwald. He claimed that he was 105 years old, but most students thought this a fiction to deter the love-stricken young ladies from pursuing him as he looked no older than thirty-five. Tall and lean, with auburn hair and bright blue eyes, it was no surprise that the new Transfiguration teacher had attracted attention.
If Minerva was a goddess tonight, there was no doubt in anyone’s mind that Professor Dumbledore was her immortal consort. His dark blue and silver robes matched hers perfectly, though Rolanda had been certain that he had not seen Minerva’s dress until tonight. Just the way he was leading her about the dance floor had more than a few women—including herself, if she was honest—sick with jealousy. The god held his goddess close, led with strength and surety, and yet projected an air of such tenderness that Rolanda was certain that she was imagining it…until they drew closer again. For Professor Dumbledore was tracing soft circles on Minerva’s back as they swayed to the music, and holding her as if she were made of spun glass.
’Cause everyone knows they're in love
By the way they dance
They were a perfect match. Rolanda Hooch, Serena Rowe, and Poppy Calloway looked at each other, stunned disbelief reflected in three pairs of eyes. Minerva McGonagall had a hell of a lot of explaining to do tomorrow.
’Cause everyone knows they're in love
Everyone knows they're in love
Yes and everyone knows they're in love
By the way they dance
“Minerva,” he whispered gently, feeling her smile against his face.
“Albus.” His heart leaped at nothing more than the sound of his name in that slight Scottish accent he loved so much. “They’re all staring,” she said, with that soft uncertainty in her voice that only he was allowed to hear.
He chuckled. “Let them,” he said carelessly, pulling her closer. “Tha gaol agam ort.”
“Forever, gràdh.”
’Cause everyone knows they're in love
Everyone knows they're in love
Yes and everyone knows they're in love
By the way they dance
Scottish Gaelic:
Tha gaol agam ort. = “I love you.”
gràdh = love
Well, there it is. My first post.
I liked that you wrote a lot of it from her friends POV
