Post by laundry basket on Apr 6, 2007 11:40:03 GMT -5
Author's Note: This is what helped to break my writer's block so I can actually get back to my other stories. It was also written in about thirty minutes, so thanks to mmadlyinlove for betaing it and offering her suggestions, which only made it better.
Disclaimer- yes, I am JKR. Don't let the American accent fool you.
~*~*~*~
Miss independent
Miss self-sufficient
Miss keep your distance, no
Miss on her own
Miss almost grown
Miss never let a man help her off her throne
Minerva McGonagall had never been exactly eager to cuddle and kiss and do all of those other things that people generally did with their boyfriends. It had just seemed silly to her when she was at school, even downright ridiculous, watching all of her room mates spending hours on their hair and makeup to please boys. Even now, when some of her staff mates were primping themselves to go out when the children had Hogsemeade weekends, she never joined them. Who needed a man to dictate her happiness?
So, by keeping her heart protected
She'd never ever feel rejected
Little miss apprehensive
Said ooh, she fell in love
It was only years later, when she had passed her prime, that she finally realized- she was lonely. The realization had taken her quite by surprise. She had been sitting comfortably in her bed reading when an owl had dropped a piece of post in her lap. As she opened it a letter slid out, with the McGonagall crest stamped upon the thick parchment. Unfolding it, a photograph fell onto the bed as well. It was picture of her parents, now long dead. Quickly she scanned the letter; her brother had been cleaning out his attic and had found books upon books of photo's. He had sent her one of their mother and father, taken on their wedding day.
They had both looked radiant. Her mother's dark hair was spilling down the back of her white dress, and her father held her hand, his blue eyes shining. They both waved from the faded photo. Her mother brushed a bit of her father's ink black hair from his eyes, and he laughed. Pulling his new wife farther back onto the dance floor, he spun her around, grinning. They both turned toward the camera and smiled, enjoying the attention.
In her present-day bedroom, Minerva's eyes misted. It must have been nice, she thought, to have someone love you like that. For there to be no judgements or jumping-to-conclusions. For there to be honesty and happiness.
Trying desperately to shake off the feeling, she carefully stood the photo against her flickering lamp. Glancing at it once more, she grabbed her tartan dressing gown and wand, shoved her feet into slippers, and opened the door to the hallway. Stepping onto the cold floors of Hogwarts, she thought again about her parents. As she strolled farther along the dark corridors, her mind kept wandering back to the same subject...love. Was there really such a thing?
"If there is, it's not for me," she murmured as she passed a snoring portrait. Minerva thought back to the last time she had had a boyfriend, and found she had to remember at least thirty years before, when she had been a young woman of forty. Even now she couldn't recall the man's name, and could barely remember his face. After that, teaching had become her main interest, and she had no time for the childish giggling about the latest man of her friends.
She shook her head and then instantly regretted it- she would need a headache potion soon. However, she continued walking down the corridors, trying as best she could to ignore the throbbing pain in her temples. As she rounded a sharp corner, Minerva was surprised to find herself pressed against something warm and soft instead of the bitter, harsh air. It would be nice to stay like this awhile, in this nice comforting place...
"Minerva?"
She jumped back, managing to effectively topple herself to the ground. "Bloody brilliant," she thought sarcastically as she stared up into the face of Albus Dumbledore.
What is the feelin' takin' over?
Thinkin' no one could open the door
Surprise...It's time
To feel what's real
Minerva found that a heated blush was creeping across her face as she scrambled up, and was for once thankful for the dim light of the corridors.
"Hello Albus. What are you doing up so late?" she asked in what she hoped was a nonchalant tone, but felt that she had failed miserably. Why was she doing this? What was wrong with her? She smiled to reinforce the casualness of their meeting. He quirked an eyebrow at her before smiling gently himself.
"I was simply taking a midnight stroll. I do that often when I have a lot on my mind."
Wondering briefly what was troubling him, she was about to ask when he beat her to it.
"And why are you out and about at such an hour? I thought you would be needing your beauty sleep; of course, you wouldn't need much," he said, eyes twinkling from above her. Minerva's mind raced- what in the hell did that mean? Oh, the old man was driving her insane! She flushed again, hating herself for it. Why did she have to be attracted to him? She didn't need any man.
What happened to miss independent?
No more the need for me to miss him
Goodbye on you
Real love, true love is
Oooh...
"Would you like to join me for a bite to eat in the kitchens?" he asked politely. "I find a spot to eat helps me to forget my troubles for a while." Minerva found herself nodding along to his suggestion, much as she despised herself.
"That sounds wonderful, Albus," she told him, despite the screaming voice in her head- "You bloody idiot! Now see what you've gone and done? You're going to go nuts around him! Bloody hell!" They walked along in a comfortable silence in which Minerva battled with the seemingly unanswerable question- Miss Independent or Mrs. Dumbledore?
As they reached a large portrait of a bowl of fruit, Albus tickled the pear lightly. The picture swung open, revealing a sparkling kitchen stocked with food. Stepping into the room, Albus offered Minerva his hand to help her up. She accepted with a smile, but the war inside her was still raging. They pulled up chairs at a plain white table in the far corner, and instantly a house elf appeared with a crack in front of them.
"Can Mimmie be's of help to the Professor Headmaster and Missus Minerva?" her small voice squeaked as she rocked anxiously on the balls of her long feet. Albus smiled at her and said gently, "It is all right, Mimmie. We can serve ourselves." The elf gasped at the statement, and her eyes filled to the brim with tears. Minerva resisted the incredibly strong urge to roll her eyes.
"Mimmie dear, Headmaster Dumbledore and I would like to get our own food. It would make us very happy to get our own food," she told the whimpering elf slowly, who nodded before sniffling once more and disappearing with another crack.
"Alone at last," Albus murmured, whipping out his wand.
Miss independent walked away
I'm so glad I finally feel...
What is the feelin' takin' over?
Thinkin' no one could open the door
Surprise (surprise), it's time
To feel (to feel) what's real
He waved it majestically over the table, and instantly a smooth black table cloth covered it, and on the cloth stood two tall red candles. Minerva fought hard to stay in place, even though her feet were begging her to run away. Why did this have to happen now? She wasn't even sure. Oh, who was she kidding? Of course she was... right? She thought frantically- this was the moment of truth; did she love him? No, of course not, she didn't need love.
As soon as this thought had whizzed across her brain, she became aware of a soft hand upon her own. Looking up, Albus' face was surely much closer than it had been a few moments ago. And that was bad? She tried to remind herself why it was so, but seemed to have become very distracted by the pair of lips now inches away from her own. Closing the gap between them, Minerva had only one though in mind.
Who needed Miss Independent?
What happened to miss independent?
No one more the need for me to miss him
Goodbye on you
Real love, true love is
Real...
Disclaimer- yes, I am JKR. Don't let the American accent fool you.
~*~*~*~
Miss independent
Miss self-sufficient
Miss keep your distance, no
Miss on her own
Miss almost grown
Miss never let a man help her off her throne
Minerva McGonagall had never been exactly eager to cuddle and kiss and do all of those other things that people generally did with their boyfriends. It had just seemed silly to her when she was at school, even downright ridiculous, watching all of her room mates spending hours on their hair and makeup to please boys. Even now, when some of her staff mates were primping themselves to go out when the children had Hogsemeade weekends, she never joined them. Who needed a man to dictate her happiness?
So, by keeping her heart protected
She'd never ever feel rejected
Little miss apprehensive
Said ooh, she fell in love
It was only years later, when she had passed her prime, that she finally realized- she was lonely. The realization had taken her quite by surprise. She had been sitting comfortably in her bed reading when an owl had dropped a piece of post in her lap. As she opened it a letter slid out, with the McGonagall crest stamped upon the thick parchment. Unfolding it, a photograph fell onto the bed as well. It was picture of her parents, now long dead. Quickly she scanned the letter; her brother had been cleaning out his attic and had found books upon books of photo's. He had sent her one of their mother and father, taken on their wedding day.
They had both looked radiant. Her mother's dark hair was spilling down the back of her white dress, and her father held her hand, his blue eyes shining. They both waved from the faded photo. Her mother brushed a bit of her father's ink black hair from his eyes, and he laughed. Pulling his new wife farther back onto the dance floor, he spun her around, grinning. They both turned toward the camera and smiled, enjoying the attention.
In her present-day bedroom, Minerva's eyes misted. It must have been nice, she thought, to have someone love you like that. For there to be no judgements or jumping-to-conclusions. For there to be honesty and happiness.
Trying desperately to shake off the feeling, she carefully stood the photo against her flickering lamp. Glancing at it once more, she grabbed her tartan dressing gown and wand, shoved her feet into slippers, and opened the door to the hallway. Stepping onto the cold floors of Hogwarts, she thought again about her parents. As she strolled farther along the dark corridors, her mind kept wandering back to the same subject...love. Was there really such a thing?
"If there is, it's not for me," she murmured as she passed a snoring portrait. Minerva thought back to the last time she had had a boyfriend, and found she had to remember at least thirty years before, when she had been a young woman of forty. Even now she couldn't recall the man's name, and could barely remember his face. After that, teaching had become her main interest, and she had no time for the childish giggling about the latest man of her friends.
She shook her head and then instantly regretted it- she would need a headache potion soon. However, she continued walking down the corridors, trying as best she could to ignore the throbbing pain in her temples. As she rounded a sharp corner, Minerva was surprised to find herself pressed against something warm and soft instead of the bitter, harsh air. It would be nice to stay like this awhile, in this nice comforting place...
"Minerva?"
She jumped back, managing to effectively topple herself to the ground. "Bloody brilliant," she thought sarcastically as she stared up into the face of Albus Dumbledore.
What is the feelin' takin' over?
Thinkin' no one could open the door
Surprise...It's time
To feel what's real
Minerva found that a heated blush was creeping across her face as she scrambled up, and was for once thankful for the dim light of the corridors.
"Hello Albus. What are you doing up so late?" she asked in what she hoped was a nonchalant tone, but felt that she had failed miserably. Why was she doing this? What was wrong with her? She smiled to reinforce the casualness of their meeting. He quirked an eyebrow at her before smiling gently himself.
"I was simply taking a midnight stroll. I do that often when I have a lot on my mind."
Wondering briefly what was troubling him, she was about to ask when he beat her to it.
"And why are you out and about at such an hour? I thought you would be needing your beauty sleep; of course, you wouldn't need much," he said, eyes twinkling from above her. Minerva's mind raced- what in the hell did that mean? Oh, the old man was driving her insane! She flushed again, hating herself for it. Why did she have to be attracted to him? She didn't need any man.
What happened to miss independent?
No more the need for me to miss him
Goodbye on you
Real love, true love is
Oooh...
"Would you like to join me for a bite to eat in the kitchens?" he asked politely. "I find a spot to eat helps me to forget my troubles for a while." Minerva found herself nodding along to his suggestion, much as she despised herself.
"That sounds wonderful, Albus," she told him, despite the screaming voice in her head- "You bloody idiot! Now see what you've gone and done? You're going to go nuts around him! Bloody hell!" They walked along in a comfortable silence in which Minerva battled with the seemingly unanswerable question- Miss Independent or Mrs. Dumbledore?
As they reached a large portrait of a bowl of fruit, Albus tickled the pear lightly. The picture swung open, revealing a sparkling kitchen stocked with food. Stepping into the room, Albus offered Minerva his hand to help her up. She accepted with a smile, but the war inside her was still raging. They pulled up chairs at a plain white table in the far corner, and instantly a house elf appeared with a crack in front of them.
"Can Mimmie be's of help to the Professor Headmaster and Missus Minerva?" her small voice squeaked as she rocked anxiously on the balls of her long feet. Albus smiled at her and said gently, "It is all right, Mimmie. We can serve ourselves." The elf gasped at the statement, and her eyes filled to the brim with tears. Minerva resisted the incredibly strong urge to roll her eyes.
"Mimmie dear, Headmaster Dumbledore and I would like to get our own food. It would make us very happy to get our own food," she told the whimpering elf slowly, who nodded before sniffling once more and disappearing with another crack.
"Alone at last," Albus murmured, whipping out his wand.
Miss independent walked away
I'm so glad I finally feel...
What is the feelin' takin' over?
Thinkin' no one could open the door
Surprise (surprise), it's time
To feel (to feel) what's real
He waved it majestically over the table, and instantly a smooth black table cloth covered it, and on the cloth stood two tall red candles. Minerva fought hard to stay in place, even though her feet were begging her to run away. Why did this have to happen now? She wasn't even sure. Oh, who was she kidding? Of course she was... right? She thought frantically- this was the moment of truth; did she love him? No, of course not, she didn't need love.
As soon as this thought had whizzed across her brain, she became aware of a soft hand upon her own. Looking up, Albus' face was surely much closer than it had been a few moments ago. And that was bad? She tried to remind herself why it was so, but seemed to have become very distracted by the pair of lips now inches away from her own. Closing the gap between them, Minerva had only one though in mind.
Who needed Miss Independent?
What happened to miss independent?
No one more the need for me to miss him
Goodbye on you
Real love, true love is
Real...
: 
