Summary: On Dumbledore's orders, Minerva McGonagall and her Order colleague embark upon a mission of upmost importance.
Disclaimer: All recognisable characters are the property of JK Rowling. This work of fiction is intended for personal enjoyment only, no profit is being made.
Under Summer Skies, We Meet Again...
Minerva was distinctly uncomfortable, and far too hot.
The Muggle dress she had chosen on impulse clung, infuriatingly, in the most inappropriate of places. The woollen coat, although smart, was much too warm in the radiating sunshine. And the shoes...
The less said about the shoes the better, she thought, marching as swiftly as possible along the riverbank. It was a truly delightful day; cyclists and joggers and other rather disgustingly athletically-minded young people streamed past her careful stride, and from the water came the hearty shouts of oarsmen. Minerva, however, felt little patience for the sunshine; although it was certainly pleasant to be free of that soupy fog, for the first time since summer began.
She found the cafe easily enough, and the man she was due to meet, even if his face was hidden behind a copy of the Times. Slipping carefully into the empty chair at his table, she hastily shed her coat and stole a quick, assessing glance around. Half of the outdoor tables were empty, and no-one, it seemed, was paying neither her contact nor his new companion any mind at all. Minerva glanced sharply at the newspaper, voice lowered, intended only for the man hidden behind it.
"Lovely day for sighting Blubbering Humdingers."
The newspaper folded in the middle, revealing a reassuringly familiar and distinctly amused face. Kingsley Shacklebolt, broad-shouldered and dark, was dressed in similar attire to her own, and grinning fiendishly. Minerva noted, with some annoyance, that unlike herself, he looked remarkably comfortable and rather handsome, in his crisp shirt and slacks, silver cufflinks glinting at his wrists. He set the paper aside, eyes hidden behind a pair of very smart, and very dark, sunglasses.
"That's a ridiculous code word, Minerva. I thought we were supposed to be blending in on this mission?" His deep, easy voice was filled with amusement, and Minerva found herself, once again this morning, feeling rather irritated.
"I have the distinct impression, Kingsley, that you have come to consider this mission of ours to be rather less serious than Albus dictated. Might I remind you-"
But Kingsley cut her off, leaning across the table to match her secretive posture.
"I'm considering it with every seriousness imaginable, Minerva. That fact, however, doesn't preclude me from enjoying a nice moment in the sunshine, in your charming company. Nor does it prevent me from finding amusement in Albus's tendency to select rather... bizarre secret code words."
Although his tone was serious, the bright grin never left his face, and Minerva's annoyance faded to a mild simmer. She settled back in her chair and folded her hands neatly in her lap, as Kingsley continued to gaze amusedly back at her.
"And who have you come as, Professor?' He murmured, casting his eyes briefly over her bare arms and form-fitting tweed dress. Minerva shifted, still uncomfortable enough to be vaguely annoyed at his usual, gently flirtatious manner.
"My cover, if you are so interested to learn, is one Miss Prudence Pennyfeather, personal assistant to the Undersecretary of Policy Development, Mister Thomas Johnston." Minerva raised an unamused eyebrow, and took a sip of water from the glass he had set out for her. Kingsley nodded in an unhurried manner, and slipped off his sunglasses.
"I myself am Nelson Nobutu, scribe to the esteemed diplomat Sir Albert Harrington, and my task today involves the retrieval, at Sir Harrington's request, of numerous files of varying importance from the government offices in Thames House."
Minerva glanced sharply back down the busy road to the squarish set of buildings standing along the riverbank. She thought back to Albus's brief, and quickly cast aside the flutter of nerves in her stomach. When she turned back to Kingsley, he was no longer grinning.
"There's no need to be anxious, Minerva," he murmured in a rather gentle undertone, and she could not fathom how he had managed to spot the fleeting emotion as it had crossed her face. She stood, and he followed suit, slinging a black jacket over one arm and gesturing her gallantly into the flow of fast-paced foot traffic. He leaned close over her as they began to walk, shielding their conversation from the passing Muggles.
"I am not anxious, Kingsley, I would just prefer to get this over and done with, so I can get out of these dreadful clothes."
From the very corner of her narrowed eye she saw his mouth twitch once more, and his voice was rich with teasing amusement as he whispered close to her ear.
"Come now, Pennyfeather," he intoned, his hand settling rather comfortably at her lower back, "I happen to think you look rather chic in that ensemble. Although... I'm not so sure about the shoes."