Minerva McGonagall and Ron Weasley
A/N – I was randomly thinking yesterday about how awkwrd it would be to have a teacher in your house, and this idea started to form…
One thing I really hated about Grimmauld Place was that the curtains in the room I was staying in were broken, because every morning the sun coming through the rips in them woke me up at an ungodly hour. It irritated me every morning and every morning I got up, yawning, and was the first down to eat breakfast.
It wasn't that I was one of those people who had to stay in bed all day. In fact, the opposite. I much preferred to get up early – but the earliness of my Grimmauld Place mornings was just too much.
On the bright side, this meant that I didn't have to worry about getting dressed before I went down to the kitchen, because there was no chance of me running into Flitwick at that hour, or Sirius, or Hagrid (and though I wasn't exactly adverse to Hagrid seeing my pyjamas, I would rather it were in a different context).
The problem with this, however, was that I was eating cereal calmly in my pyjamas and slippers one morning, when I heard someone wander into the kitchen, wiping sleep out of their eyes.
"Hello, Mr Weasley," I said tiredly.
It amused me a little when he nearly jumped out of his skin, obviously thinking that I was a ghost, or a Death Eater. I watched as he span around, looking all the kitchen for the voice, and when he finally found who it was, his face turned bright, bright red.
"Morning, Professor," he said weakly, obviously very aware that the two of us were in our pyjamas.
His discomfort was rather sweet, if I was honest, because he was stumbling around the kitchen like a baby lamb, looking for a bowl and a spoon. That being said, I could deny that I was a little embarrassed as well. It wasn't exactly a common occurrence, students seeing me in my pyjamas. At least they were respectable ones.
Sadly, the same couldn't be said for Ron, but I knew not to concentrate of that, or even mention it. The poor boy seemed suicidal enough as it was.
It wasn't long before he found a bowl and awkwardly came and sat opposite me. "How are you, this morning, Mr Weasley?" I asked, quite calmly.
His ears reddened anew. "Fine," he mumbled through a mouth of cornflakes.
"What are you doing up so early?" I asked him, trying to break the tension. After all, I wasn't his teacher when I was at Grimmauld Place.
But to my surprise, he turned even pinker in the brief seconds before he started to choke on a cornflake. Calmly handing him a glass of water, I went back to my own breakfast.
"Bloody-," he began angrily, massaging his throat, when he had finished coughing, but as I looked up from my breakfast to raise my eyebrows at him, he seemed to realise who he was with, and stopped. "Er, sorry."
I nodded. "So, why are you up at this hour?"
He avoided my eye. "Er, just had a dream," he said shiftily.
"Right," I replied suspiciously.
Ron didn't hesitate to return to his own breakfast when I had responded, looking a little relieved. I couldn't deny by this point that the whole thing was a little awkward, and I began to wish that someone else would come in and break the tension. Even the entrance of Sirius would make this less awkward.
It took Ron only a few minutes to wolf down his cereal, and when he had finished, he immediately stood up and went to put his bowl in the sink, as I sighed a quiet sigh of relief. However, as he walked over to the counter, I noticed something that puzzled me.
"Mr Weasley," I said, a little sharply, in confusion. "Why are you wearing Mr Black's pyjamas?"
I slightly regretted the question as Ron looked like he might cry. "I just borrowed them," he mumbled unhappily, the fastest I had ever heard him talk, and he quickly left the kitchen just as the penny dropped for me, and I had to put my spoon down, slightly disgusted at the thought of a Weasley having a wet dream.
A/N – Uncomfortable moment and a half…