A/N: I'm afraid lightning might actually strike my house now that I'm actually updating this fic. :-O I've made it a goal this year to complete all my unfinished fics, so here's hoping. Thanks for reading and occaisonally prodding me into updating. Hope you like!
I've uploaded two chapters, because apparantly I missed one. I thought I'd already posted Chapter 4!
- April :-)
Chapter 4
Albus awoke to something cold on his legs and warm against his back. Upon seeing the empty cot, he realized that he had fallen asleep on the bed and Minerva ws currently snuggled against him. Albus found that he enjoyed the feeling. He could do without the cold he felt on his legs though, which turned out to be Minerva's feet. Merlin, they're like ice!
While he was pondering how to remove the offending appendages, Minerva rolled away from him, taking the blanket with her. Still sleepy, he chuckled silently in spite of himself. So, our dear Professor McGonagall is a blanket hog! Albus tugged on what little of the comforter was still covering him, pulling it entirely around himself.
Minerva, suddenly feeling cold, woke up and turned over to find Albus completely engulfed in the covers. Trying not to wake him, Minerva gently pulled on the blanket. When she was just about covered, Albus yanked the blanket back and hoped Minerva didn't see his smile. He was wrong, of course.
"I saw that smirk, Albus Dumbledore!" Minerva pulled with all her might on the comforter, starting a tug 'o war match. It ended with Albus overpowering her and yanking so hard that both the blanket and Minerva ended up on top of him.
Neither said a word as they stared into each other's eyes. Minerva was lost in his twinkling eyes and found it hard to breathe. "I win," Albus whispered. His hands had landed on her slender hips. Minerva felt herself being drawn in by his intense stare and she moved her face closer to his. What would he do if I kissed him?
Knock, knock, knock. "Good morning! Room service!" The moment ruined, Minerva rolled off of Albus and put on her tartan robe. Albus got out of bed as well and went to answer the door.
After tipping the man an appropriate amount, Albus and Minerva sat down to a delightful breakfast, their morning tumble put out of their minds.
"So, what is on the agenda for today?"
"I thought we might visit the theater."
Minerva's face lit up. "That would be wonderful!"
A few hours later, Minerva was not so pleased. "Albus!" she whispered, quite harshly, "this was not what I had in mind when you said we were going to the theater."
"Well, we are technically at the theater. I'm sorry, my dear, but hasn't this tour been most interesting! I mean, I never would have guessed that they used hydraulics to move the different backdrops into place with only three minutes to spare," said Albus, who was enjoying himself.
"Yes, that was all fascinating," admitted Minerva, who couldn't bear to upset him because he looked so cute when he was excited about something. Of course, she considered upsetting him when they entered the backstage area and the dressing rooms, where a gaggle of showgirls were waiting for them in full costume. A question and answer session and photo op followed. Albus had several pictures taken of him surrounded by the statuesque women who, in their three-inch heels and three-foot high headdresses, towered over Albus like Amazons. She did pull out the small camera that they were given at the travel agency and snapped a picture of Albus trying on one of the girls' feathered headdress. It would make an entertaining Christmas card this year, she thought.
Minerva watched as Albus charmed each of the dancers with his twinkling eyes and bright smile. Her stomach clenched and she felt an uncontrollable urge to hex them every time they reached out to feel his beard, which they apparently found fascinating, or pat his arm. Why am I feeling so territorial? I have no claim on him - do I? Do I wish I did?
They decided to stay at Bally's for lunch and while munching on their shrimp cocktails, Albus pondered where to go next.
"As long as there are no showgirls, anywhere is fine," said Minerva, with more contempt than she really meant. "I am your guest, after all."
Albus paused, his fork not two inches from his mouth. "I always meant for you to enjoy yourself as well, my dear. You are not simply here to keep my company, though I might add that I find your company most pleasing no matter where we are."
Minerva couldn't help but blush. She tried to hide it by taking a sip of her iced tea. "So, you seemed to enjoy all the attention those women were giving you."
Albus' ears perked up and he tried not to smirk. "Is that a hint of jealousy I detect in your voice, Professor McGonagall?"
"It most certainly is not! I was just making an observation and meant nothing by it," she stammered. Oh, you're not fooling anyone, Minerva.
"I see. Actually, lovely as they were, those women are most certainly not my type."
Before she could stop herself, Minerva blurted out, "What is your type, then?"
"A woman with intelligence, loyalty, and a charming addiction to ginger newts." His eyes never wavered from her face as he spoke.
Minerva was speechless. Was that a confession? Her usually quick intellect stumbled about for something to say. "If I ever come across such a woman, I'll send her your way," she said, slightly breathless.
"Thank you," he said. If he was disappointed in her statement, he betrayed nothing.
The couple had no time to dwell on it as the food arrived and they ate the rest of their lunch in relative silence.
