Minerva McGonagall stepped into the Great Hall. It was all decorated for the Christmas celebration. Minerva herself wore her dress robes, in a deep purple that accented her dark red, but slightly graying, hair. She was all dressed up and ready to supervise the students at the Winter Social, which would be happening just after dinner.
The dinner itself was going to be a good one—a festive one. The house elves down in the kitchen were working on something special for the students before they went home for the holidays.
She dragged her finger along one of the long tables that were set up along and throughout the hall. The rough, worn, familiar feeling of them reminded her of something else, someone else, something that was as much a part of the school as anything else in the room—perhaps even more.
"Minerva," came a voice from behind her. Her heart leapt at the sound of it.
"Albus," she said, smiling as she turned to face him. He wore his lavender dress robes, which McGonagall thought fit him very well. His silver beard, and it was only recently that it had become gray, swished upon the robes.
"What a fine thing they've done to the hall," he said, gazing through his spectacles at the large room around them, and its decorations. "And you, Minerva," he continued, fixing his gaze on her. "You, my dear, are more dazzling than it all put together."
McGonagall blushed and smiled. "Oh, Albus…" she said, hiding her giddiness and embarrassment. She decided to change the subject to something more professional. "Are you chaperoning the formal later?" she asked as casually as possible.
"Oh, Minerva," he said in a deep, jolly tone. "I wouldn't miss it for the world! All of the students will have a great—what is it that the muggles are saying these days? Groovy!—time! I'm sure of that. And someone has to make sure they make good choices." With the last few words, he winked, letting the other professor understand exactly what he meant by them.
"Of course, professor…" said McGonagall. By using his professional address, she was sure that she had made it clear that she was not flirting or being coy—or at least, she thought so.
He gave her a small smile, and wandered off to the door at the other end of the hall, where the stairway down to the kitchen hid. He enjoyed fraternizing with the house elves, and they often gave him extra treats—especially little candies, which he especially enjoyed.
The feast was wonderful, as it always was. The house elves, without fail, had created a magnificent array of rich, delicious foods. There was turkey with decadent stuffing, with trays of steamed vegetables and potatoes cooked eleven different ways. The student all gorged themselves on the food, and Minerva was unsure that they would even be able to eat dessert, much less dance later on.
The plates disappeared, the deserts appeared, and the students gobbled those up as well. Somehow, they rallied, and when the desert vanished and the tables were pushed to the sides of the hall, they were all able to immediately begin dancing as soon as the music began to play.
Minerva cast her eyes across the sea of students, all dressed up nicely in their dress robes, dancing to the sounds of a rock and roll band that was hired for the event.
McGonagall barely even noticed when Albus came up behind her, and she jumped a little when he spoke. "Interesting band, isn't it?" he asked.
"Oh, yes," she said, recovering.
"They're quite popular with the muggle youth these days," he said. "Though I must confess that their ability to play music for both wizard and muggle communities has gained them quite a bit of success."
Minerva nodded, as the singer in the band crooned, ooh mama, I'm gonna make you feel all right, ooh, ooh, mama…
"Here," said Albus, handing Minerva a glass of a light brown liquid. He held one of his own.
"What is it?" she asked, finding that her voice, though powerful, was being drowned out by the band's music.
"Honey mead," said Albus. "I brew it myself, as a hobby."
Minerva smiled and took the cup, and as she brought it to her lips, she could taste the sweetness and smoothness of the drink. She smiled again. "It's wonderful, Professor Dumbledore," she said.
"Minerva," he said. "You know, I much prefer it, when we're in private company, that you call me Albus."
"Yes," she said, "sorry, um, Albus." She blushed and took another sip of her drink.
They stood together like that, watching the students dance together to the music of the band, which didn't seem to tire though the whole time they were playing. Dumbledore refilled their glasses more than a couple of more times during the evening, and they laughed together at the sounds of the band, as t the dancing of the students, who were much younger than they.
Neither of them knew which of them suggested or initiated it, but very soon, they were both dancing together near the back of the Great Hall. Albus slid his hand around the waist of McGonagall's dress robes, and she draped her wrist over his shoulder. They laughed as they danced to the silly music of the day, and they made eye contact. Behind his spectacles, Minerva could see the shimmer in Albus's eyes and she felt her heart just a bit louder. When the song ended, they stood and clapped the rest of the student, both smiling as they did.
The next song began, with a pounding, exciting guitar riff. Minerva grabbed her partner's hand, and led him to the side lounge of the Great Hall, as the signer began to croon, oh let the sun beat down upon my face, stars to fill my dream… She pulled Albus, laughing, to the overstuffed couch that was sitting against the stone wall.
Minerva felt herself letting go of her professionalism, of her well-guarded feelings toward Albus, her coworker—her hands pushed themselves across his chest, pulling apart his buttons and revealing his skin beneath. She let go of him for a moment to pull at her own dress robes, letting them fall to her waist.
But not a word could I relate, the story was quite clear— Minerva found her moaning along with the singer, as she climbed atop Albus.
"Minerva," said Albus, with a hint of surprise in his voice. "I didn't know—"
She put a finger to his lips. "No," she said. "I didn't, either, or I wouldn't let myself see it…" She let her hands slip from his chest down lower, pulling at his undergarments.
All I see turns to brown, as the sun burns the ground…
"No," said Albus, pushing Minerva off of him, and onto the couch beside him. "Minerva, look. It's not you, it's…" He was at a loss of words. Minerva held back her sadness and disappointment. It would not be appropriate for her to show those feelings now.
"I—I'm a—" Dumbledore, normally articulate, tripped over his words. "I fancy wizards, not witches."
Minerva started at him, jerked out of her self-pity by the confession. "Oh," she said, too surprised to really say anything else.
Albus sat up and rebuttoned his robes. "I'm sorry if I led you on," he said. "You're a magnificent witch, and I value your friendship, but I was never interested in you, sexually."
Minerva nodded and pulled her robes up over her shoulders. She struggled to reach the buttons in the back, and Albus helped her. "Not many people know," he said. "The wizarding world is accepting of it, but not every wizard is. Some in my family…"
Minerva turned back to him. "Albus," she said. The muffled rock music from the adjacent hall seemed less important now. "I won't tell a soul, if you won't tell anyone about my… advances. This entire night can be our little secret."
Albus smiled. "I have a great friend in you, Minerva," he said. "And as long as we're under a truce of confidentiality…"
He pulled her in close and kissed her. Her strict lips parted ever so slightly, and their tongues met. Something warmed within her, and though it was not what she had initially hoped for, she was happy, content with the outcome of the night.
"Thank you," she said as their lips parted. Her heart resumed its normal patter, and she knew that she had closure. The song ended in the other room.
"Anything," said Albus, with a sly grin, "for a friend."