Minerva McGonagall concluded that it was not her day.
She had been awoken at six AM to the sound of cackling from her classroom, which was adjacent to her chambers. At first, she rolled over and ignored it, thinking that she'd dreamed it or imagined it. But then it happened again, and Minerva, grumbling (she was normally an early riser, but six o'clock was definitely too early for a weekend), put on her tartan dressing gown and got up to investigate.
She entered her classroom and discovered the source of the cackling: Peeves. She might have guessed. He was zooming around the classroom with a bottle of ink, which had splattered everywhere. All over the room. Minerva's heart sank when she saw that he had covered her latest pile of third-year essays which she was only half-way through marking.
"PEEVES!" she barked, livid. "The Baron will hear about this!"
Peeves only resumed his cackling as he swooped out. Minerva performed a quick cleaning spell over the whole room, but when she walked over to her desk, sighing, her suspicions were confirmed: the essays were completely illegible. And she couldn't vanish the ink without vanishing the writing as well. She was not going to be popular when she had to ask the students to re-do the work.
Disgruntled, Minerva went back to bed but found she could not sleep. Giving up, she showered, dressed and decided to use the time constructively by marking her sixth-years' exam papers in her office.
Later on, when it got to a time when she thought there would be other people downstairs, Minerva left her office and began walking down to the Great Hall. She arrived at the staircase down to the Entrance Hall only to find a gaggle of distressed-looking Hufflepuffs blocking the way down.
"What is the problem, Miss Bones?" Minerva demanded impatiently.
"Hannah isn't feeling well -" began Susan nervously, but that much was made clear by the fact that Hannah Abbott promptly vomited over Minerva's shoes.
Minerva rolled her eyes and sighed heavily for the second time that day. "Oh, don't be so melodramatic, MacMillan," she snapped at Ernie, who looked absolutely horrified. "It's nothing a simple Scourgify can't solve."
She pointed her wand at the shoes and muttered the charm, and her shoes were as good as new.
"Now, Mr Finch-Fletchley, if you would kindly escort Miss Abbott up to the Hospital Wing, the rest of us can go down to breakfast without causing a scene."
Minerva marched down the stairs, through the Entrance Hall and down the Great Hall until she reached the staff table and sat down next to Pomona Sprout. It was getting late now, so few staff members were left at the table, and there was an empty chair on Minerva's other side.
Minerva began piling sausages and bacon onto her plate. Pomona raised her eyebrows.
"What?" Minerva demanded defensively. Minerva rarely had much to eat at breakfast time, claiming that she couldn't stomach it.
Pomona just shrugged and said nothing, sensing that this was not a good day to argue with Minerva.
Her suspicions were proved even more correct when the post arrived - a bedraggled owl dived head first into the pumpkin juice jug which, unluckily, Minerva had just used, so it was right next to her and the juice sprayed all over her freshly laundered robes. And this was the point when Minerva became certain that today would not be a good day.
"WEASLEY!" she barked across to the Gryffindor table. The Weasley family could be seen looking from one to the other, trying to work out which of them was in trouble this time. "I don't care which of you! Will one of you just come here and take this wretched owl!"
Ron tentatively walked up to the staff table and, with a revolted expression, fished Errol out of the jug. "Sorry, Professor, it's just that he's getting a bit old and tired and -"
"Yes, thank you Mr Weasley, it is perfectly clear that you have a somewhat disabled owl if it can't fly the extra twenty metres to reach the addressee," Minerva cut across him. He mumbled another awkward apology and returned to the Gryffindor table.
"Are you quite all right, Minerva?" asked Pomona, half amused, half concerned.
"Of course I'm all right," Minerva snapped. "What makes you think otherwise?"
"Do you want me to answer that?" Pomona asked dryly.
Minerva gave in. "Well, I suppose it's just not my day today."
"I don't think vomiting girls and pumpkin juice are your biggest worries at the moment," Pomona laughed.
"Well... okay then," Minerva began. "To be honest with you, I'm just a little worried about Potter. I mean, I know he is an above average student, but the Tournament was designed for seventeen-year-olds. And," she looked around her to ensure that no students were within earshot, then lowered her voice, "dragons? It's just so dangerous. I can't say I'm not even slightly worried about Diggory. I keep telling Albus that he should pull Potter out, but he says he can't."
Pomona thought for a moment. "He'll be okay, Minerva, he always is. I mean, he's done things like this before, hasn't he? He always pulls through."
"I suppose so," said Minerva, but she didn't look entirely convinced.
Pomona looked at her sympathetically. "I think what you are in need of, Minerva, is a little retail therapy."
Minerva paused for a moment, unsure if she had heard correctly. "I'm sorry?"
"You heard me, Minerva. It's a Hogsmeade weekend. Retail therapy. Shopping," she said, when Minerva still looked mystified.
"Don't be ridiculous, Pomona. Do I really look like the kind of woman who enjoys 'a little retail therapy'?" asked Minerva scathingly.
"No," Pomona admitted, and Minerva looked triumphant. "But you are a woman. So you must like it a little. Deep down. Please? I'll do your rounds tonight."
Now that was a difficult choice. She really didn't want to do her rounds. Especially on a Hogsmeade weekend. Who knew what the students would have picked up from Zonko's that would need confiscating and generally make her life more difficult. Minerva looked at her pleadingly. "You know I'll hate it."
"I know you'll love it," Pomona corrected her, getting up to leave. "I'll meet you by the gates at two. Don't be late," she sang, and strode off towards the great oak doors. Minerva sighed in defeat. She was not looking forward to the afternoon.
"I can't believe you're doing this to me, Pomona," Minerva complained as they trudged down to the village several hours later. "Can't we just go to the Three Broomsticks?"
"No," said Pomona firmly. She seized her wrist and all but dragged her into Gladrag's Wizardwear. "Hmm," she said, "I could do with some new dress robes. And I bet you could, too."
"What makes you think that?" Minerva demanded. "I have three sets of perfectly good dress robes, thank you very much."
Pomona snorted. "You've worn the same ones to the last three staff parties, and I'm sure you've had the other two pretty much since you left school. The Yule Ball is a big occasion, you know that."
"Of course I know that," snapped Minerva. She gave in - students were beginning to point and whisper. "Fine. I suppose it can't hurt to try some on."
After selecting a few to try on, the Professors went into adjacent changing rooms and came back out once they had removed their work robes and put on the dress robes.
"Black again?" exclaimed Pomona. "You're so boring, Minerva. Lighten up a bit."
Minerva was slightly offended. She liked the lacy patterns on her black robes; they were subtle and more interesting than her normal attire.
"Yellow, again? You're so predictable, Pomona," Minerva shot back. "You look like a canary."
"Well I'm sorry if I want to show my support for my house, and Diggory," Pomona said, exasperated. "Even you've been known to wear Gryffindor scarlet from time to time."
"Yes, at Quidditch matches," said Minerva, rolling her eyes. "Not at a formal occasion. I think green is much more my colour, even if it's Slytherin's house colour. Does it really matter?"
"I suppose not," Pomona replied uncertainly. "And it's Christmassy! Anyway, so we're agreed not these ones?"
"Definitely not these ones," Minerva confirmed, nodding. Both Professors retreated back into their changing rooms once more.
Minerva was the first to come back out. She waited impatiently for Pomona to emerge. When she finally did, Pomona gasped in horror.
"We can't both wear the same colour!"
"Oh, for goodness' sake, Pomona," Minerva sighed. Both women had selected green this time. "It doesn't matter! They're not even anywhere near the same shade of green!" It was true - Minerva's robes were emerald-coloured, whereas Pomona's were a more earthy shade of green, reminiscent of the plants in the Herbology greenhouses.
"All the same, it's an unwritten rule that you can't go to a party wearing the same colour as somebody you know," said Pomona firmly.
Minerva rolled her eyes again.
"I don't think these ones really suit me anyway," Pomona admitted, "so you go ahead and buy those ones."
"Thank you so much," said Minerva sarcastically.
Finally, after at least ten more sets of robes and half an hour of Pomona's agonising and Minerva's cutting remarks, Pomona decided on a pale yellow set of robes.
"At least it won't burn anyone's irises," said Minerva after they had left the shop.
"That's enough! I am never taking you shopping again," Pomona declared. "I'll take Aurora next time."
Minerva suppressed a snort. Aurora Sinistra, the Astronomy professor, was much less objectionable than Minerva and had a tendency just to agree with whatever anybody said, and Minerva thought she would be a perfect shopping companion for Pomona. "Good," said Minerva.
Pomona laughed. There was a pause. "Three Broomsticks?" she suggested.
"Excellent," said Minerva, nodding. "I really need a drink after that..."
A/N: So I was sick of writing about da Gama and Diaz (for school, waa), so I decided to write you this instead :3 (when I fail History I can blame it on you guys :P) And also I've been writing a lot of sad/angsty stuff lately so I thought this would be a nice change.
For Vayalin Whisper's "Challenge: Humourous McGonagall One-shot." Prompts were "dragon" and "shopping".
Reviews are loveee because this is a new style and new characters for me, so more than ever I would love to hear your thoughts. :)
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.