Post by maritelske on Dec 18, 2005 21:48:08 GMT -5
As a newbie, I thought I'd make an addition to the board. I have enjoyed reading others work immensely and have loved the AD/MM ship since first opening HP&PS.
Title: Ab Ovo
Summary: Behind every great love is a great story - Albus Dumbledore/Minerva McGonagall facing the world and all the evil within it. Our beloved trio make many an appearance.
Rating: M – just to be safe. Much is implied, little is said.
Disclaimer: I own nothing you recognised – probably nothing else either. Forgive me for all errors. They are my own doing.
- - -
The Evil Within
The rain fell across the panes of the glass signalling the beginning of the winter, and the bitter cold that would come with it – a resolute sign of time passing, and of moving forward into a new season of hope.
As Professor Minerva McGonagall rised in her suite, she glanced out across the gardens – the lawn now covered by a thin layer of morning dew. Across the horizon, there was a hazy view of cloud and she knew it could only mean there was snow going to fall.
She was right.
With the falling of the snow, so perfect in its path across Hogwarts’ gardens, came a renewed gratitude for the indoors – long nights of markings, chess and banquets. For Minerva, the nights were agonising long. Alone in her suite she sat, taking long baths and spending the brief moments she had to herself before bed engrossed in another attempt at ‘King Lear’. Wickedly, she had thought of her husband often as Lear – growing more forgetful and capricious with age. And then, she thought with a faint hint of endearment, he was still her husband – the man who had for so long been by her side, for so long had made her smile. He had always been a friend – an undoubtedly close friend. She trusted him with her life, loved him for all eternity. She had never wanted anything more.
Sitting by her window in a large sofa chair, her feet tucked under one another as she sat in the perfect moonlight, she turned another page of her book – oblivious to her suite door opening. The figure approached her, almost not daring to interrupt the perfect silence which surrounded her – her silhouette outlined by the white moonlight, her perfect features caressed with a look of concentration, immersed in the beautiful workings of Shakespeare.
“A touch too much of a dark novel for a beautiful night, don’t you think?” Her book snapped shut with the intrusion and she turned quickly to face the voice – seeing the perfect form of her husband.
Taking off her glasses, she stood to greet him.
“That all depends on which element of Lear you choose to study”
“A father banishing his daughter, his daughter poisoning her sister”
“A daughters love for her father”
“Granted”
“Is it not love which conquers all?” She asked, hands on her hip as though expecting some sort of fight – some sort of battle to be won. None arrived.
“I am sorry to interrupt. I just wanted to apologise – ”
“ – For what?” She shot back, cutting him off completely. He sighed, realising that perhaps she did still blame him for leaving her so suddenly without even talking to her first. He had received an urgent owl – she had been in class. At the time, it had seemed so simple. He would leave and let her know he was gone as soon as be possibly could. But Fudge had been lucid – there had been people to see, legislation to look over. He had never found the time.
“I was busy Minerva. The Ministry is in shambles”
“Yes” She replied curtly, her back straight – her eyes flashed green, “Too busy to send an owl. I was worried Albus”
“I am sorry. Forgive me?” She frowned. She was stubborn – it was one of her most admirable - and most irritating - qualities.
“What happened to the minister? Why did he wish to see you?”
“It’s the Muggle world. Things are getting out of control – things we can no longer explain, no longer cover up” She sighed heavily, staring out the window to the blanket of snow below. Her eyes were pensive, her hands clasped together on the sill.
“What are we going to do?” She turned to face him, her eyes not even close to reflecting the fear in her soul, “What on earth are we going to do?”
With the same expression, he turned hopelessly to look out across the world he could no longer save. Defeated, his shoulders fell.
“What can we do?”
- - -
The halls of the school were full of tension – of suspicion and greed, hauntings and rumours, doubt and apprehension. The staff themselves were no better – Madam Pomfrey was running around mumbling to herself – faint traces of ‘No rest…’ and ‘…Ridiculous hours’ could be heard. Filch patrolled the corridors with even more vigilance – his eyes were everywhere. He knew everything.
But there were some things even Filch himself did not know – secrets which people would never divulge. The marriage of Albus Dumbledore to Minerva McGonagall was one of the greatest Wizarding Secrets of their age – and not even the resident sticky-beak had discovered their hidden lies.
They were subtle – a flick of the hand, a suggestive glance. But it was always professional. They were always scrupulous, always mindful of what it would mean to their relationship if they were discovered.
Years ago, when they had been newly weds, Albus had bewitched her cupboard – and it had led directly to his bedroom ever since. They had shared the secrets between only themselves, never once giving a sign that they had been married for decades under a blanket of secrets.
As they walked into the Great Hall that morning for breakfast, they gave not one indication that they had spent the night together as man and wife. They gave no evidence that they were terrified, that they had spent the night trying to convince one another everything would be alright.
In fact, that morning – they looked the picture of health and of strength. The great Albus Dumbledore and his Deputy, Professor Minerva McGonagall.
But as Dumbledore’s eyes met Harry’s as he walked the vast lengths of the Great Hall dining tables - for a moment, Harry was sure he saw fear reflected in his eyes.
“Good morning Headmaster” Snape’s voice was dull, while Professor Flitwick beamed at Albus and Minerva as they approached the staff table.
“Good morning Professors!”
“Good morning” Was all Dumbledore said in reply as he sat at the head of the table. He was weary. He had had little sleep. He had wanted to think things over – but had no idea where to start.
When it came to evil, there seemed no proper place to start – no just cause to think of a resolution, or to conjure a plan that would aid the plight of the good and the brave. He sighed heavily as his breakfast appeared before him and suddenly, he wasn’t hungry.
“I think I may skip breakfast this morning. There is much to do” He nodded his warm thanks to the staff as he stood once more and swept out of the Great Hall just as suddenly as he had arrived.
Minerva could not follow him.
- - -
“What do you thinks the matter with Dumbledore?” asked Ron later that night as they sat in the common room, a packet of opened Chocolate Frogs before him.
“Oh Ronald, honestly! What is not wrong with him?” Hermione rolled her eyes, taking them off her Transfiguration essay, “Nobody is the same anymore”
“It’s scary isn’t it… to think that You-know-who is out there…” Ron whispered. Hermione said nothing and Harry merely nodded. He was particularly silent that night.
“There is something else” Harry said suddenly, his eyes transfixed on Hermione’s essay.
“Something else?” She questioned, looking up at him.
“Dumbledore and McGonagall are acting strange”
“What, stranger than usual?” Ron looked confused as he stuffed his face with another chocolate frog. This time, his card was Dumbledore.
“Look! See!” Harry grasped the card in his hands, flashing it to his friends, “He looks different – sadder… older” His voice trailed off, his thoughts getting away with him. Ron snatched back the card and stared at it intently.
“I dunno, maybe his beards grown a bit or something…”
Hermione frowned and sighed, giving off the air of someone entirely exasperated.
- - -
Night had set in long ago, leaving nothing but the moon to cast a dull glow across Hogwarts – the faint white light pouring through the windows without their curtains drawn. Minerva’s suite was no different, dimly lit with only the natural light from outside and as Albus entered the room that night, he could imagine nowhere more perfect.
“I was afraid you weren’t coming” Her voice was a soft whisper as he heard her footsteps growing louder and louder as she approached him, before her entire form was visible to him. With a smile, he took her hands gently – feeling her breath against his lips.
“The students were in the way” That was the only form of explanation he offered her before they were locked together on the couch.
Sometimes the only way to destroy the terrors of the day was to forget about them entirely – to give themselves to one another, wholly and completely. But even then, they could not forget. Not entirely.
Voldemort’s name marred their touch, their thoughts, and their hopes. His presence intoxicated their world.
- - -
Title: Ab Ovo
Summary: Behind every great love is a great story - Albus Dumbledore/Minerva McGonagall facing the world and all the evil within it. Our beloved trio make many an appearance.
Rating: M – just to be safe. Much is implied, little is said.
Disclaimer: I own nothing you recognised – probably nothing else either. Forgive me for all errors. They are my own doing.
- - -
The Evil Within
The rain fell across the panes of the glass signalling the beginning of the winter, and the bitter cold that would come with it – a resolute sign of time passing, and of moving forward into a new season of hope.
As Professor Minerva McGonagall rised in her suite, she glanced out across the gardens – the lawn now covered by a thin layer of morning dew. Across the horizon, there was a hazy view of cloud and she knew it could only mean there was snow going to fall.
She was right.
With the falling of the snow, so perfect in its path across Hogwarts’ gardens, came a renewed gratitude for the indoors – long nights of markings, chess and banquets. For Minerva, the nights were agonising long. Alone in her suite she sat, taking long baths and spending the brief moments she had to herself before bed engrossed in another attempt at ‘King Lear’. Wickedly, she had thought of her husband often as Lear – growing more forgetful and capricious with age. And then, she thought with a faint hint of endearment, he was still her husband – the man who had for so long been by her side, for so long had made her smile. He had always been a friend – an undoubtedly close friend. She trusted him with her life, loved him for all eternity. She had never wanted anything more.
Sitting by her window in a large sofa chair, her feet tucked under one another as she sat in the perfect moonlight, she turned another page of her book – oblivious to her suite door opening. The figure approached her, almost not daring to interrupt the perfect silence which surrounded her – her silhouette outlined by the white moonlight, her perfect features caressed with a look of concentration, immersed in the beautiful workings of Shakespeare.
“A touch too much of a dark novel for a beautiful night, don’t you think?” Her book snapped shut with the intrusion and she turned quickly to face the voice – seeing the perfect form of her husband.
Taking off her glasses, she stood to greet him.
“That all depends on which element of Lear you choose to study”
“A father banishing his daughter, his daughter poisoning her sister”
“A daughters love for her father”
“Granted”
“Is it not love which conquers all?” She asked, hands on her hip as though expecting some sort of fight – some sort of battle to be won. None arrived.
“I am sorry to interrupt. I just wanted to apologise – ”
“ – For what?” She shot back, cutting him off completely. He sighed, realising that perhaps she did still blame him for leaving her so suddenly without even talking to her first. He had received an urgent owl – she had been in class. At the time, it had seemed so simple. He would leave and let her know he was gone as soon as be possibly could. But Fudge had been lucid – there had been people to see, legislation to look over. He had never found the time.
“I was busy Minerva. The Ministry is in shambles”
“Yes” She replied curtly, her back straight – her eyes flashed green, “Too busy to send an owl. I was worried Albus”
“I am sorry. Forgive me?” She frowned. She was stubborn – it was one of her most admirable - and most irritating - qualities.
“What happened to the minister? Why did he wish to see you?”
“It’s the Muggle world. Things are getting out of control – things we can no longer explain, no longer cover up” She sighed heavily, staring out the window to the blanket of snow below. Her eyes were pensive, her hands clasped together on the sill.
“What are we going to do?” She turned to face him, her eyes not even close to reflecting the fear in her soul, “What on earth are we going to do?”
With the same expression, he turned hopelessly to look out across the world he could no longer save. Defeated, his shoulders fell.
“What can we do?”
- - -
The halls of the school were full of tension – of suspicion and greed, hauntings and rumours, doubt and apprehension. The staff themselves were no better – Madam Pomfrey was running around mumbling to herself – faint traces of ‘No rest…’ and ‘…Ridiculous hours’ could be heard. Filch patrolled the corridors with even more vigilance – his eyes were everywhere. He knew everything.
But there were some things even Filch himself did not know – secrets which people would never divulge. The marriage of Albus Dumbledore to Minerva McGonagall was one of the greatest Wizarding Secrets of their age – and not even the resident sticky-beak had discovered their hidden lies.
They were subtle – a flick of the hand, a suggestive glance. But it was always professional. They were always scrupulous, always mindful of what it would mean to their relationship if they were discovered.
Years ago, when they had been newly weds, Albus had bewitched her cupboard – and it had led directly to his bedroom ever since. They had shared the secrets between only themselves, never once giving a sign that they had been married for decades under a blanket of secrets.
As they walked into the Great Hall that morning for breakfast, they gave not one indication that they had spent the night together as man and wife. They gave no evidence that they were terrified, that they had spent the night trying to convince one another everything would be alright.
In fact, that morning – they looked the picture of health and of strength. The great Albus Dumbledore and his Deputy, Professor Minerva McGonagall.
But as Dumbledore’s eyes met Harry’s as he walked the vast lengths of the Great Hall dining tables - for a moment, Harry was sure he saw fear reflected in his eyes.
“Good morning Headmaster” Snape’s voice was dull, while Professor Flitwick beamed at Albus and Minerva as they approached the staff table.
“Good morning Professors!”
“Good morning” Was all Dumbledore said in reply as he sat at the head of the table. He was weary. He had had little sleep. He had wanted to think things over – but had no idea where to start.
When it came to evil, there seemed no proper place to start – no just cause to think of a resolution, or to conjure a plan that would aid the plight of the good and the brave. He sighed heavily as his breakfast appeared before him and suddenly, he wasn’t hungry.
“I think I may skip breakfast this morning. There is much to do” He nodded his warm thanks to the staff as he stood once more and swept out of the Great Hall just as suddenly as he had arrived.
Minerva could not follow him.
- - -
“What do you thinks the matter with Dumbledore?” asked Ron later that night as they sat in the common room, a packet of opened Chocolate Frogs before him.
“Oh Ronald, honestly! What is not wrong with him?” Hermione rolled her eyes, taking them off her Transfiguration essay, “Nobody is the same anymore”
“It’s scary isn’t it… to think that You-know-who is out there…” Ron whispered. Hermione said nothing and Harry merely nodded. He was particularly silent that night.
“There is something else” Harry said suddenly, his eyes transfixed on Hermione’s essay.
“Something else?” She questioned, looking up at him.
“Dumbledore and McGonagall are acting strange”
“What, stranger than usual?” Ron looked confused as he stuffed his face with another chocolate frog. This time, his card was Dumbledore.
“Look! See!” Harry grasped the card in his hands, flashing it to his friends, “He looks different – sadder… older” His voice trailed off, his thoughts getting away with him. Ron snatched back the card and stared at it intently.
“I dunno, maybe his beards grown a bit or something…”
Hermione frowned and sighed, giving off the air of someone entirely exasperated.
- - -
Night had set in long ago, leaving nothing but the moon to cast a dull glow across Hogwarts – the faint white light pouring through the windows without their curtains drawn. Minerva’s suite was no different, dimly lit with only the natural light from outside and as Albus entered the room that night, he could imagine nowhere more perfect.
“I was afraid you weren’t coming” Her voice was a soft whisper as he heard her footsteps growing louder and louder as she approached him, before her entire form was visible to him. With a smile, he took her hands gently – feeling her breath against his lips.
“The students were in the way” That was the only form of explanation he offered her before they were locked together on the couch.
Sometimes the only way to destroy the terrors of the day was to forget about them entirely – to give themselves to one another, wholly and completely. But even then, they could not forget. Not entirely.
Voldemort’s name marred their touch, their thoughts, and their hopes. His presence intoxicated their world.
- - -
