Author's Note: Just taking a break from Sweet Disorder… I've been meaning to write an MMAD one-shot set when Minerva is a student, actually, so this might turn out interesting.
I realize it's a bit sappy, but I was in that kind of mood. I suppose we all need to read some sappy stuff every now and then.
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. Period.
Summary: Professor McGonagall taught Ron to dance during the Trio's fourth year. But, surely, she must've learned somewhere...
Like Nobody's Looking
'Dance like nobody's looking.'
Poppy Pomfrey came sprinting into the Gryffindor common room, completely out of breath. She looked so surprised, not to mention about to burst with information, that nearly half the Gryffindors stood, asking what was the matter.
"It's Dippet," she breathed. "He's scheduled a ball and all of us are to learn to dance tomorrow. Dumbledore's scheduled a lesson."
That caught the rest of the common room's attention. "A ball?" Alastor Moody screeched. "A ball!"
Poppy let a small smile slip onto her face. "And it's required for all seventh years to attend."
While half the room was in an uproar, a frantic, eighteen year old Minerva McGonagall slipped out into the hall, her face pale.
She still heard the loud common room halfway down the corridor; it was noticed she was no longer in the room, so most of the Gryffindors began to insult her, commenting that she probably already knew how to dance perfectly, being the stuck-up know-it-all she was. Minerva fought back tears; all her friends had insisted they were only jealous, but every slur still hurt.
The noise of Alastor and Poppy defending her faded away as she began to dash down the hall. She nearly crashed into the door she was trying to enter, jiggling the doorknob frantically. In her hurry, she momentarily forgot the skills of the wizard inside.
The door opened, but as Minerva's entire weight was against it, she lost her footing and slipped. She closed her eyes, prepared for the impact, but she magically froze inches from the ground. Seconds later, there was an arm around her waist, pulling her up.
Smiling, Minerva took a deep breath. "Thanks, Professor Dumbledore," she greeted.
Albus Dumbledore chuckled. "Of course, Miss McGonagall," he replied, gazing affectionately at the young woman in front of him. "However, I do remember requesting you address me by my given name sometime during the course of your training."
Minerva grinned. They had grown rather close during her Animagus training. Even if she wished it was closer... "Quid pro quo, Albus," she retorted with a tilt of her head.
"Touché, Minerva," Albus said. There was a silence, then he realized that his arm was still circling her waist. With a quick apology, he retracted his hand, berating himself.
'Wouldn't want Minerva to think you have feelings for her more than friendship,' said the sarcastic voice in his head.
"You weren't busy, were you, Professor?" Minerva asked him apprehensively.
"Never when it is you, my dear," Dumbledore smiled, leading her further into the room. He leant against his desk, and she sat on top of her usual desk. The one that was front and center, of course, knowing Minerva. "What was it that you needed?"
Minerva blushed brilliantly. "It's rather silly..."
"I make a living by telling my students the most ludicrous things, my dear girl," he encouraged. He motioned toward the pile of parchment on his desk. "My 'work' for the night is simply filling out invitations for the ball coming-"
"That's just it, Albus!" Minerva exploded. Dumbledore sat back, his eyes wide; he'd never seem the black-haired girl so frazzled. "I can't dance! I'll be teased something dreadful..."
"I thought," the professor interrupted sharply, "you had told me that those students had quit hurting you."
There was a period of silence, in which Minerva's face only grew more and more red. "They did, Professor," she countered. At his dubious look, however, she sighed. "For a while, at least."
Albus could tell she didn't want to talk about it, so he didn't push the issue. "Come on, then," he beckoned to her. The professor of Transfiguration took her hand and apparated the pair to a garden that looked out over nearly the whole of the grounds of Hogwarts. Minerva looked around in wonder. "The roof of the west wing," Albus explained.
"How come I haven't-" she began.
"Seen it from the outside?" he finished. She nodded as she bent down to a circle of roses, sniffing them. "It is glamoured. I found it in my fifth year." He didn't mention that he had brought all the girls he had been serious about to this place.
She had straightened, turning to face him with a bemused expression in her eyes. "Why did you bring me here," she wondered.
He didn't reply, only taking a step toward her and held out his hand. "My dear, may I have this dance?"
Minerva's face broke out into a wide smile, and she reached to take his outstretched hand. "Thank you, Albus," she whispered, and as he pulled her against him, he waved his right hand and music suddenly echoed throughout the flowers.
"What if I'm awful?" She questioned miserably.
Albus chuckled. "Just dance as if nobody's watching, my dear."
Minerva could hardly concentrate on his whispered instructions; she could only hear his rumbling voice in her ear. She could only feel his breath on her throat and her body aligned with his taller one. 'Get a hold of yourself, Min,' she berated herself. 'Your feelings for Albus are completely...' She had to think for a minute, while words like amazing and wonderful and beautiful flitted through her hazy mind. '...Inappropriate.'
He was leading her well; it wasn't long before they were gliding together as if they had done so many times before. Somewhere in the dance, and she couldn't remember how, he had pulled her too close for propriety and she did not protest, laying her head on his chest. They waltzed for a long time, long after the beats of music had faded away. They listened to the music that was only shared between them, growing closer and closer.
Suddenly, Albus' smile turned mischievous and he dipped her out of the blue. She let out a frightened gasp, her hands gripping the front of his robes tightly. After a few seconds, he pulled her back up, still smiling. "Albus," she admonished, but he couldn't help but notice that her hands still held onto his robes, though she was obviously no longer scared.
"Never be afraid to fall when you are with me, Minerva," he retorted softly. "Though, when you are dancing with all those boys at the ball, I might be worried for your safety," he joked.
"Who says I will be dancing with any boys, Professor?" she teased.
There was silence, and by then they had abandoned all pretense of dancing. They seemed to be frozen in time, and she was buried so deeply in his robes, and therefore his embrace, that only her head resting on his chest was visible. The only sign of movement was their staggered breathing.
Eventually, Minerva backed away, leaving both parties feeling bereft and alone. "Thank you for teaching me to dance," she whispered.
"Minerva," he croaked, and she looked at him in surprise at the emotion in his voice. "Minerva," he repeated, "I would teach you anything... I would keep you at my side... I would do whatever it takes to keep you from harm."
She couldn't tell who moved first. Steps were quickly taken and she flew into his arms, kicking her feet up into the air and weaving her hands into his thick, auburn hair. He held her there for a minute, and from over his shoulder Minerva watched the sun sink beneath the horizon.
"It's going to be hard," she stated, breaking the silence.
"So hard," he emphasized. "No one can know."
"No one," she promised. There was a pause. "But I think I love you."
"I know," he whispered, and he tentatively reached for her waist and barely pressed his lips to hers.
As soon as they touched, it was as if some unseen force was pushing them closer and closer together. So close that when they broke apart to breathe, she found that she was between him and a nearby tree with her legs around his waist. They kissed quite a few more times, each one getting more and more sensual, Albus only stopping when the gold of Minerva's head girl badge flashed in the corner of his eye. "Minerva," he groaned. "Min, we cannot do this now."
"When then?" she demanded, trying to hide the hurt at his rejection.
"After your graduation, when there are less rules and consequences keeping us apart," he replied, lifting her up and lowering her so that she was again on her own two feet. "And Minerva, I do not wish to limit you. If you find love before then, I will let you go. You deserve the best."
Minerva had a strong urge to slap him across the face. "I belong with you, Albus," she insisted. "I cannot have come this far…" She paused, gathering her thoughts. "You promised you would not let me fall."
He instantly pulled her to him, holding her close. He carefully apparated them back to his office. "Oh Minerva, I would never. We must part ways, however. Headmaster Dippet will be looking for me, and it goes without saying-"
"-we mustn't be caught," she finished. "Thank you for teaching me to dance, Professor Dumbledore."
She left without another word, and Albus wondered moments later whether the entire meeting had been a dream.
HPHPHP
When Minerva had arrived in the common room, every girl had instantaneously noticed how swollen her lips were. She was practically carried up to her dorm, where it was demanded that she should share every detail about her 'rendezvous', as one girl called it. She told them she couldn't tell them his name, but they didn't seem too disappointed. They all thought it was most likely a Slytherin… oh, how wrong they were.
Two hours later, Minerva was allowed some peace and quiet. As she completed her Transfiguration homework with a dreamy smile on her face, an owl swept through the open window, dropping a torn piece of parchment on her lap. It simply read three little words, the phrase being one that could never be tainted by any amount of hate, lies, and deceit. The one overused, though never cliché, saying that could make the depressed smile and the bad, good again.
'I love you'
Minerva sighed, opening her diary and pressing the paper inside, closing it tightly and locking it. This is how their relationship would have to be, shut up tight and bolted away so no one else could see. But she loved him so much, she honestly didn't care.
HPHPHP
"Professor McGonagall?"
Minerva nearly jumped out of her skin at the voice pulling her out of her memories, but immediately looked down at the boy addressing her. "Yes, Mr. Weasley?"
Ron Weasley blushed a brilliant red. "Sorry, Professor. You just looked a little out of it. You know, lots of thoughts."
Minerva's mouth curled up a tiny bit at the corners at how inarticulate the boy was. "Thank you for the observation, Weasley, but I would be more worried about where you are placing your feet then whether or not I am, as you say, 'out of it'."
The redheaded boy looked down, seeming to focus on the dance. "It's just… it looked like they were pretty happy," he mumbled.
The Transfiguration professor seemed to ignore his words, dismissing the class. "I expect you to be practicing, all of you!" she called after them. "The next lesson is Tuesday and four o'clock sharp!"
She stared after her Gryffindors for a few minutes, then a wide smile spread across her face and she whispered to the empty room:
"Oh they most definitely were, Mr. Weasley."
HPHPHP
There you go! I might write a companion to this, or maybe more than one.. (one for each: Dance, Love, Sing, and Live?) It depends on whether I need another break from SD anytime soon…
Thanks for reading and please leave a comment!
~lala~