lol i haven't written in so long

for the ql, bats' seeker reserve, write about ihatemakingupnames' headcanon: McGonagall'd always silence Dumbledore when he annoyed her, especially now when he's a portrait

thanks crochetaway/shannon for betaing

967 by google docs

Minerva felt numb. She felt empty. She felt as if a chunk of her was just gone. Albus was—no. Albus couldn't be...

She quickly blinked her back tears. Not daring to cry in front of dozens of faculty and hundreds of students. She was the first to raise her wand, casting a nonverbal 'lumos'. Albus would've wanted more light in the world, even after his passing. People behind her copied the motion and, if she looked at it from the Astronomy Tower, she would be able to see hundreds of tiny, glittering lights, like stars on the ground.

Minerva knew it was ridiculous but she couldn't help it—she blamed herself. It was a game the two of them had, where she would cast 'silencio' on Albus whenever he bugged her. Even if he didn't annoy her, sometimes she would still silence him. She made it into a game: how many times she could get away with casting the spell on him? He would play along and award her for getting him at a good time. Now Minerva didn't need to silence him. Death did it for her. She had silenced him so many times and now he was silenced forever. How could she ever cast that spell again? How could she separate the spell with her memories of Albus? Even now, without casting the spell, memories flooded her without warning.

The first time she cast 'silencio' on Albus was after a really hard class in one of her early years of teaching. Albus had scheduled a meeting with her, just to check in. It was a yearly thing he did with all of the teachers, to make sure the students were doing okay. The hour before her meeting, Minerva had her worst class: third year Ravenclaws. This particular year the students seemed more interested in learning why the spell was able to transfigure rather than actually performing the spell. They annoyed Minerva greatly and she was not looking forward to a meeting with Albus rambling on about—well she wasn't sure, exactly. The other teachers had told her that she didn't actually have to listen to what he was saying, so she took their advice and didn't. She may not have listened to him, but she still heard him. After her Ravenclaw class, she had no interest in doing either, so, after five minutes of Albus droning on, she silenced him with a simple.

Albus gaped at her in surprise, obviously not expecting it from one of his employees. Minerva blushed and quickly reversed it, regretting her actions.

"Sorry, I just got tired of—"

"Me speaking?" he asked, slightly smiling. She nodded and blushed. The last thing she needed at the moment was to lose her job. She wanted to last more than just a few years teaching at Hogwarts. "Understandable." He nodded, his eyes sparkling.

Minerva let out the breath she had been holding. She was relieved to not be fired.

"Thank you."

The second time, Albus got her. He was observing one of her classes. That day's lesson was explaining the theory behind turning turtles to teapots. Five minutes into her speech, and she suddenly couldn't speak. Minerva looked around at her students' faces, trying to determine who cast the spell. One face in the very back of the class stood out to her—it was shining with glee. She glared at Albus, but he just wiggled his fingers at her. Once it was clear that the headmaster was the one causing the trouble, the students burst into laughter, watching their speechless teacher become more and more frustrated, motioning angrily to Albus.

"I'm sorry, Minerva," he said, his eyes twinkling in their infamous way. "I just can't help it. It was incredibly boring."

The class burst into more giggles.

When Minerva was able to silence Albus during his welcoming speech, she brought up the idea of a points system. She didn't even mean to, but she whispered 'Fifty points to me' from the seat beside him. He gave her a look that was stern, but it was mixed with the mischievous smile on his face.

"Points?" he asked her when she removed the charm and he was able to finish his speech and sit down.

"I only will if you will."

"Of course," he said, giving her another grin.

"Fifty points for a public speech, twenty-five for in front of a class, and ten for in private," Minerva suggested, making up the point amounts on the spot. Her grin matched his.

"Sounds fair to me." He held out a hand, which she took and shook.

From that moment on, they silenced each other every time they could, whether just to annoy the other, or because the other was being annoying. They decided that they would continue the game for the rest of their lives. There was no forfeit, no prize, it was just all for fun.

Minerva won by the point tally, but she certainly didn't feel like she won. She had 395 points while Albus only had 360. She felt awful that the game was over—it reminded her that Albus was dead.

Minerva was looking at their official point tally sheet in Albus' office, deep in thought, when a calm voice said from above her, "Oh, don't assume that the game is over so easily." Minerva knew that voice. Looking up, she saw a moving portrait of Albus, next to all the other past headmasters and headmistresses.

"Albus?" she asked, looking into his blue eyes. The portrait didn't show the sparkle his eyes gave.

"Yes, Minerva. I'm still—"

"Silencio," Minerva said, pointing her wand at his portrait of him, grinning. It had the intended effect; no words came out of his mouth, no matter how many times he opened and closed it. "Ten points to me."