Disclaimer: Not my characters. Not at all. If they had been my characters, I would have given them a little more chance to shine in the books.

It was first year Transfiguration. The children were rowdy as it was the Friday afternoon before a Hogsmeade weekend. Even though they wouldn't be allowed off the grounds, anarchy was still contagious. Minerva gave each and every delinquent a steely eyed gaze which immediately settled them down. There was no way in Hades that she'd let them try to Transfigure anything living, not when they were acting like a bunch of babbling, boozing buffoons.

"Now, this is a tea cup." She deliberately pointed at a rather gaudy pink tea cup. "For today's lesson, you will Transfigure it into a plate."

Deliberately, she demonstrated the proper method of doing so and before long there was an ugly pink china plate on the table.

Thank Merlin, there wasn't a cat on it, Minerva thought. Her dislike for Umbridge was readily apparent if you knew for what to look. There was no sense in making it obvious enough for even Filch to discover. Not for the first time, and she knew that it wouldn't be the last, Minerva firmly squashed the icky memory of a drunken Septima Vector swearing that Argus Filch was shagging Umbridge.

"Now, class. You may begin," Minerva serenely instructed, attempting to keep her voice calm and free of her annoyance.

The Professor slowly walked through her classroom, ensuring that she praised the better attempts, correcting the rather stunning failures and refrained from flinching even while she instinctively casted a Containment Spell when Henrietta Smythe blew her teacup to kingdom come. When the rainfall of broken china ceased, Minerva cleaned up the mess with an economical flick and swish of her wand. Then the class steadily went downhill from there, and when the class was dismissed with firm instructions to practice, practice, practice over the weekend, Minerva breathed a long sigh of relief.

I'm getting far too old for this, she thought. Her neck was paining her, and so she stretched. It was after a particularly satisfying crack that her eyes caught the slightest movement near the classroom ceiling. Hidden among the various architectural structures, there were three birds. Those damnable birds from India! A one eye Phoenix and two Eagles had been lurking for how long in her classroom and her sharp eyes had missed them?

From all appearances, the bird brains appeared quite amused at her teaching style. That most assuredly did not make her feel better, especially when she realized the futility of getting angry at three birds.

"Shoo!" Minerva loudly announced. "Else I'll use your fine Eagle feathers for a new pillow!"

The Phoenix gave her what could only be described as "I'd like to see you try, Minnie" glare while the two Eagles mockingly rolled their eyes at her.

"And you, my rather ratty looking Phoenix, I'll make a cloak out of your feathers! Though I'll be too ashamed to wear it anywhere! Don't you think it's long past the time for you to Burn? Fawkes would be horrified to be seen in public looking as scruffy as you do."

For good measure, Minerva threateningly waved her wand at the birds. She would never actually use magic on them, but still, the birds were smirking at her. The birds appeared disgruntled at the turn of events, the Phoenix in particular having taken great offense at the word 'scruffy', and with a slight poof of flame, the three birds were gone, having decided in mass that it was far safer to critique another instructor.

"That's it! Fly back to Albus! Chickens! That's what you lot are." Minerva called after them, knowing that they couldn't hear them, but still her Scottish pride insisting that she win the skirmish.

She was still glaring at the ceiling when Severus walked into her classroom. The Potions Master took one look at the fearsome expression on her expressive face, and quirked a very slight smile.

"Did I just hear Minerva McGongall shrieking about chickens?" Severus' voice radiated a deep concern about her going utterly barmy.

"No," Minerva snapped, as sometimes Severus just made her crankier merely by breathing. "It was Rolanda Hooch, Severus."

"Ah," Severus wisely decided to agree. "Rolanda must learn to keep her voice down as it carries. Squawking about chickens will cause people to doubt her sanity."

And yours, Minerva heard Severus' caustic thought.

"It was the messenger birds from India. They watched my lesson," she explained with a slight, forced laugh. "Bad enough I had to suffer through Dolores, but now even the birds are auditing me?"

"You too? They watched mine also." Severus admitted. "I'm becoming more and more convinced that there is something odd about those particular birds. Rolanda claims she caught them flying around the Quidditch Pitch. That's not so bad, but she swears that they were measuring the field and watching the set up for tomorrow. Wilhelmina gave that rather seedy looking Phoenix a full body massage under Albus' direct order, and you know what she said?"

Minerva's headache returned in full force, right behind her left eye.

"Spit it out, Severus," Minerva growled. "I'm sure it's nothing good."

"According to our, Merlin be thanked, exceedingly competent Care of Magical Creatures Instructor, that Phoenix shouldn't be able to physically fly. Minerva, its left wing is missing a joint and most of its primary feathers. Our little feathered friend is most likely using a levitation spell to skulk around the castle. That's a bit advanced spell casting for most Phoenixes, don't you agree?"

"Merlin's bloody scrote, they're Animagi?" She softly questioned, though damn it, her instincts had been warning her since breakfast that the birds weren't acting like real birds.

"You're our resident expert, Minerva," Severus tartly reminded her. "I already looked the birds up in the registry. You're the only one listed for this particular century, but there have been… rumours… of other unregistered animagi. Simply shocking, I know."

The names of James Potter, Peter Pettigrew and Sirius Black were unvoiced by Severus, but were still heard loud and clear by Minerva.

"India was never completely under the control of Ministry of Magic when they were part of the Empire, Severus. So it's highly probable that India never bothered filling out the proper forms, especially after the Kali Uprising. The Indian Mage Council was livid that the Ministry didn't send help when the school needed it," Minerva explained even though she knew Severus was aware of India's peccadilloes.

"At least we finally have a guest count for India, plus the demiguise finally gave Wilhelmina the damn letter from Tanaka. There will be six from Nippon. So thanks to India telling the Ministry to Sod Off, we have no clue which mages those birds might actually be?" Severus questioned.

"The Phoenix is most likely the Vice Head Master…" Minerva admitted that slowly. "When I contacted the school, I had requested to speak with the Head Mistress and also the Vice Head Master, Mohammed Masood. When India responded, I only heard from the Head Mistress… and that Phoenix was sitting on the backrest of her chair. I believed that the bird was her familiar."

"Masood? Isn't he Albus' juggling FIRE Mage?" Severus' voice rose in alarm. "That Phoenix who should have burned a month ago is actually a Fire Mage?"

Her green eyes met his eyes of deepest obsidian, and they both spoke in unison as the same horrific thought crossed their minds.

"India is up to something."

Severus looked uneasy, and she had to admit that she was feeling a might concerned. The most insular, standoffish school, who justifiably had their reasons for being that way, had decided to make an appearance. No doubt Albus Dumbledore had already realized what was happening, and was safely barricaded in his office, laughing like the proverbial mad hatter over the situation he had created, and one with which Minerva and Severus had to deal.

"Better increase the guest count, and batten down the hatches. India's most assuredly up to something," she whispered.

"Are you sure?" Severus questioned. "Maybe the three Animagi will just transform. They might be inspecting the Quidditch Pitch just to ensure that they have enough space to transform without causing a pileup of magi. It's less impressive when Animagi transform and immediately fall flat on their bums. As you are well aware, birds aren't as graceful as cats, Minerva."

Being the local resident Animagi expert, Minerva glared at Severus, as he no doubt was remembering quite well the only time she had transformed and tripped over a startled student. Naturally, it had happened in front of him. Snape had half dragged, half carried her to Poppy's office as she had twisted her ankle, while she had been forced to listen to his running diatribe about aged witches who liked to show off for their unappreciative, fumble fingered, brain dead students.

Merlin's polka dotted knickers, tied and twisted into knots, did the boy, who was looking insufferably pleased with himself, just mouth, five points?

Points?

The wizard was keeping score? She'd shove a point up his bloody arse…. After the party, Minerva reminded herself.

"Severus, imagine Hogwarts had disappeared from the international magical circle for decades, and had only concentrated on nurturing and teaching their countries' wizards and witches. India's school has almost twenty thousand students, Severus, a far cry from the five hundred or so they had seventy years ago. If Albus was in charge, and had decided for whatever reason to bring the school out of isolation…."

"He'd do it in such a way that it would the talk of all the magical circles for the next millennia," Severus interrupted. "Dumbledore is a bit of a drama whore."

Severus bit his lip after using the word whore, and Minerva decided to ignore the boy's slip of the tongue.

"Severus, combine that with no doubt India's strong need to show off for Filius, I mean, every member of their Cadre lived through the India Incident. No doubt they're working on something… something momentous to impress Filius."

"Do you truly believe, Minerva, that eccentric coven in Mumbai is planning on breaking seventy odd years of traditional seclusion by producing a magical extravaganza unheard of in modern times?" Severus drawled. "They might believe that they've done enough to flaunt tradition by sending three animagi."

"The Cadre were students when Filius was there. Now they are the instructors, face to face with their former instructor who helped save their lives. Come on, Severus, can you say that now since you're an instructor, you've never attempted to impress any of your former teachers? You never felt the overwhelming need for any of us to see you as an instructor, rather than the student you once were?" Minerva asked, but quickly added a snippy, "Be truthful, Severus."

Her question hit Severus hard, and she saw the boy's façade crumble slightly.

Merlin's bloody scrote, she cursed, you didn't really need to ask that, Min. The boy lives with his unshakeable conviction that he's only here as Potions Master due to Albus' good graces.

"My best endeavors in that area have been less that successful," Severus admitted softly.

Instinctively, she reached for his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. The contact seemed to startle Severus, as he paused.

And… point for Minerva, she thought.

In a firmer tone, he continued, "Yes, I can see why you have a valid concern. They're up to something, limited only by the fact they've had less than two weeks time to prepare."

"If I was them, I'd have all their teachers working on it," Minerva decided. It didn't make her feel any better that Severus nodded his head in agreement. "How many instructors do they have now? Hundreds?"

"What do we know so far - a Fire Mage, in particular, an immolating Fire Mage, produces a great deal of magical energy during the burning process," Severus reminded her as though she had slept through Filius' lecture on Elemental Mages during her school years. "Considering that Elemental Fire Mages have been looked at with a rather jaundiced eye ever since those two burned down the school, Masood no doubt has a bit of a fiery chip on his shoulder. Most people don't bother remembering that the Fire magi were protecting the students. "

"Masood is going to prove a point with his Fire Magic; I'm assuming that he's got two other Animagi with him so he's got magical support. Meanwhile, India's coming out of seclusion… no doubt determined to do something… larger-than-life... so everyone will know India's back on the magical scene… plus… the various Head Masters of the school have a… burning… desire to impress Filius."

Minerva winced at his pun, but conceded him the point.

The witch and wizard ceased talking for a few minutes, their over active imaginations each wondering what that unholy combination might mean.

Fire.

Lots of fire.

Big, burning pyres.

INFERNO.

"I better start brewing a headache potion. I feel I will need it," Severus darkly muttered. "Would you like some?"

"Make it a double," she snapped. "As long as I can drink liquor with it as I've turned into such a boozer since Dolores arrived."

"I'll modify it," Severus helpfully offered.

"Filius has been instructing for over a hundred years, do you have any idea what it might take to impress him?" Minerva moaned.

"Well, the fact that you two are having a civilized conversation that's free of snark and sarcasm, no threats over points being awarded or deducted and no obvious blood spilled, I think that qualifies me as highly impressed!"

Filius cheerily called in from the hallway, and Severus fluently muttered assorted muggle curse words that she was surprised that he knew and utilized. Attempting to remain calm, Minerva noticed that Severus appeared completely carefree.

Damnable spy, she cursed. He looks cool and I'm sweating buckets. Filius, naturally, just walked into her classroom, and pulled up a chair to her desk. To Min's surprise, Severus easily picked up Filius and placed him in the chair, Severus deliberately acting like it was nothing and Filius not commenting at all on the assistance.

How many times have I seen Filius clamber into a chair that's too tall for him? I stopped asking him if he wanted help decades ago, as he refused it.Severus doesn't bother to ask, as he doesn't want to embarrass Filius, he just flat out does it. And Filius doesn't want to shame Severus by thanking him, as though the considerate gesture is out of the ordinary for Severus, so Fi doesn't mention it. Albus, you did know what you were doing when you put these two men together!

"Well, I'm just curious, Filius. How much did you overhear?" Severus coolly questioned after Filius was properly stationed. "You must have missed our discussion on house points. Minerva was once again, being hypercritical of my poor little Slytherins and claiming that her little Gryffindor lions were being sweet, little angels."

Minerva growled, as it was expected that she'd dispute Severus' withering comments about her House members.

"Not much, I just got here when you were discussing headache potions and your strange need to impress me. You don't have to impress me, I'm quite delighted with both of you," Filius admitted easily. "I'm glad I caught you two as I need to discuss something with you. I was hoping that since you had a free period that you'd be here. I had planned on hassling you two about this tomorrow at our meeting, but something has come up."

"Why? What are you doing tomorrow?" Severus calmly questioned.

Minerva felt on edge as Filius hmm'd and haww'd.

"It is your entire fault, Severus," Filius finally squeaked. "I have to help Rolanda with her damn Quidditch safety charms. She roped me into it because I wouldn't let her help the other night. She claims that since I don't trust her enough to help protect the Great Hall, then I need to redo all the Safety Charms for the Quidditch Pitch. Apparently, we're doing it tomorrow at ten in the morning."

Oh yes, Rolanda had offered to get Filius to the Quidditch Pitch. Her method of doing so was rather… inventive, Min had to admit. Perhaps Ro hadn't completely blown out her brains from all her high speed flying stunts from her professional Quidditch days.

"My fault? How?" Severus innocently protested. "Though, Filius, you must admit that it might be safer for the Gryffindor team if the charms were redone. They do have a tendency of not bouncing very well."

Minerva refused to acknowledge the comment, though she could have sworn that she heard Severus mentally gloating about points.

"I HATE flying tandem, especially with that speed-addicted witch," Filius then cursed. "It's your fault, because if you had only closed the door faster, she would never have snuck into the room."

"He's got you dead to rights, Severus," Minerva helpfully inserted.

Minerva knew that she was being extremely immature, but when Severus glowered at her, she deliberately mouthed, two points! The boy's jaw dropped, and Minerva couldn't help but smile.

Broadly.

"It will take awhile. Anyway, here's the contract for the Weasleys. I wrote it up, but wanted you two to be familiar with it," Filius began to explain the contract. "We, the instructors…"

The pre-party tension was most assuredly getting to Severus.

He hadn't slept particularly well since the dream with Lily, Tobias, Minerva and that damnable Garuda. Severus wasn't a Master of Oneiromancy, but since Sybill certainly wasn't one either, he felt no shame about his lack. After pondering his dreams for the last week or so, he had finally decided that Garuda was nothing more than a symbolic representation of his deep concerns about cocking up this entire party. After all, the impossible to predict Garuda was most likely the dream manifestation of the Indian School of Magic. Meanwhile, Filius was the Ravenclaw House Head which was symbolized by an Eagle. If Ravenclaw's symbol was an elephant, no doubt the elephant headed Ganesh would have shown up in his dreams instead.

His dreams finally neatly catalogued and filed away, Severus was finally able to focus on other details regarding this party.

There were roughly two hundred foreign mages in London, all having port-keyed from around the world to that central location. From all top secret reports also known as the mouth of Arthur Weasley, the Ministry of Magic was having a full blown melt down processing the various mages.

Tomorrow, Albus would lift the Hogwarts' anti-Disapparition jinx from just the Quidditch Pitch. The stronger mages had agreed to Disapparite directly to the Quidditch Pitch, at their previously arranged times, while the various other mages were port keying their way there from London.

So much could go wrong, and Severus knew that it would be his complete fault.

Obsessively, he reread the various notes he had taken on who would arrive and when, what food, drink and other niceties were being prepared by the House Elves, what was being done to turn the Quidditch Pitch into the center of festivities.

There was something he had forgotten.

Something… important.

It came to him hours later, when he was compulsively walking in his chambers, unable to sleep.

Filius would think he was working on the Quidditch's Pitch's safety charms when he arrived at the party.

Damn it, the Quidditch Pitch's SAFETY!

From first hand experience, due to an incident that he had never successfully been able to solve though he placed the blame on the late Quirenus Quirrell, the Slytherin knew that the wooden stands were extremely flammable. His robe had "spontaneously" caught on fire, and he, being so concerned about saving that worthless Potter's life, had nearly turned into Snape Flambe before someone had noticed.

And the fire had nearly taken the stands with him.

Masood!

He'd burn down the Quidditch Pitch!

With that thought on his mind, he grabbed his wand, threw on his robes and left his chambers at a rather fast pace.

Minerva McGonagall was in the Quidditch Pitch; well it would be more correct to say that she was hovering over the Quidditch pitch, balanced carefully on her broom, deliberately placing anti- conflagration charms over the stadium. She was smartly dressed in Muggle clothing, as jeans were so much more broom-friendly than her instructor's clothing.

Minerva wasn't Filius; able to single handedly cast a ward big enough to contain the entire Quidditch arena. At best, she could only cast a large enough charm to cover a small section of the arena, and then fly to the next section where it would be repeated.

The half moon was providing at best, a smidgeon of light, and she cursed herself for not having thought of the potential for a major catastrophe during the daylight hours.

Energetically cursing Dumbledore for his brilliant idea of inviting India and their highly combustible Vice Head Master, Minerva felt slightly better, even though she knew that she'd be up all night covering the field, unless she had assistance.

To her surprise, she saw someone entering the Quidditch Field.

"Lumos!"

A small, bright light appeared at the tip of Severus Snape's wand, casting a ghostly light around the arena. The boy looked particularly specter-like, as his sallow face contrasted greatly with his dark robes.

It was cruel of her, but she couldn't resist flying toward the Slytherin at break-neck speed, and braking her broom mere inches from him. To her intense disappointment, Severus did not flinch, even when one of her feet accidentally tapped his arm.

He did brush the dirt off his sleeve though, while giving her a disgusted glare.

"Minerva," he calmly greeted her, as though Severus had complete, unshakable faith that that she wouldn't plow him into the ground. "I see we both have the same concerns about a certain fiery Mage."

"It's a fine night for flying, Severus. It's an even better night for casting anti-conflagration spells. Get on the broom, Severus."

He arched his eyebrow in mock surprise at her brisk tone, and retorted, "Minerva, I'm not the type to go bareback broom riding with a woman I barely know. Not on the first date, at least. Think of your reputation, Minerva!"

To hell with Severus' obsession with scoring points in their verbal disagreements, to blazes with politeness, Minerva leaned over to Severus, and placed her wand directly under his chin.

"Shut up and get your arse on my broom, boy," she ordered. "I've spent the last hour casting and I've only gotten 1/8 of the arena covered."

It took a few minutes for the two of them to learn to work as a team. Severus had longer legs than she did, and they kept getting their legs tangled. She nearly dumped him off the broom a few times when they slowly flew around the arena.

At last, Minerva parked her broom, hovering roughly ten feet off the ground. Severus was sitting stiffly behind her and she sighed.

"Severus, you can fly so much better than this," she snapped. "I've seen you. Why have you reverted to a first year student who has never seen a broom before?"

"I fly differently than you do, Minerva. It's a male, female issue. As a female, you have this insane desire for speed, while I fly a little more conservatively," Severus snarked. "I have this strange desire to live."

"This isn't going to work. It's going to take the two of us even longer to cover the stadium if I can't get any decent speed up. Severus, you're going to have to bite the bullet. Move closer to me," she ordered.

That caused Severus to shift nervously away from her, and nearly throw both of them off the broom.

The boy has a crush on you, Min, and is fearful of you finding out. That's why he won't sit closer to you.

Damn the masculine pride and Severus' unease over his body's possibly all too gallant response to being nestled against her rear, Minerva cursed. Well, she should be kinder to the lad, as females didn't have that embarrassment of sporting that rather visible response. Merlin's Beard, she hadn't mentioned to anyone that the boy had modeled quite the trouser tent before he had realized he was in bed with her.

Carefully, she brought the broom down closer to the ground so that Severus would be able to stand with his feet on Terra Firma. Deliberately, Minerva inched her way up the broom handle so to balance the two of them.

"Stand up, Severus. You will now put your left hand around my waist, Severus. Please! Severus, I know this is awkward, but I don't bite," she pleaded.

His left arm was hesitantly wrapped around her waist.

"Tighter, Sev," Minerva instructed in her best Transfiguration Professor's voice. "Now take your feet off the ground."

That done, the witch proceeded to cast a stick'em spell on Severus's rump. It was a spell normally used for younger broom passengers riding tandem. He wouldn't fall off the broom, nor would he be able to move away from the spot from which he was sitting. Then Minerva wiggled herself back into the proper position for two person broom riding.

Yes, she was just a hair from sitting in Severus' lap. Minerva could hear the soft sounds of Severus' breathing in her right ear, and feel the warmth of his body against hers. If something developed, Minerva would quite... firmly ... ignore it.

"And now, ready for takeoff?" She asked.

Without waiting for an answer, Minerva McGonagall pushed off the ground. It was a wonderful night for flying.

Minerva McGonagall had a death wish, and she was intent on bringing him down with her.

That was the only excuse for what happened next. The witch began to speed around the Quidditch Pitch, leaning this way and that. Pride demanded that he not fall off the broom, so he gave up all pretenses and just wrapped both arms around her middle.

Severus learned to lean to the left or the right, based on her instructions, learning the utter basics for flying tandem with a speed addicted witch. Other times, she would accelerate and pull the broom into an incline, so her body would be forced closer to his due to the gravitational forces.

It was probably the most erotic experience of his life, Severus had to admit, and he had casted not one, but three 'Down Boy' Spells to ensure that things remained completely respectable between the two of them. Now he finally understood why there was always a sizeable line outside Anastasia's Athletic Angels brothel for their broom sex special. Mr. Silence hadn't been that kinky as he was a bit of a priss, as he firmly believed sex should include at least one foot on Terra Firma.

But no doubt Anastasia's nimble girls would be unable to match the experience of flying in the near darkness, his body so close to Minerva that they were moving as one unit, his arms tightly wrapped around Minerva McGonagall's slim waist, carefully ensuring that he didn't move his hands either high or low from where they were stationed even while he inhaled that subtle fragrance that was completely and utterly her.

To his delight, part of Minerva's hair came loose, flying behind her like a banner.

This was heaven, complete and unadulterated heaven.

It was only with the slightest bit of regret that Severus unwrapped his right arm from around Minerva's waist to begin casting the intricate anti- conflagration charms.

"We should circle the arena at least twice to ensure that we get every spot," he informed Minerva. Professional pride, and nothing else, demanded that he ensure complete coverage of the arena.

"Yes," she yelled back. "Plus we'll need to do the outside of the arena, besides the underbelly. Hold on!"

The witch picked up speed, her body leaning against his due to the inertia, and Severus heroically ignored her long, lean neck that was crying out to be nuzzled, licked and kissed.

Albus Dumbledore was staring out his office window that overlooked the Quidditch pitch. He shook his head in disbelief at the scene he was watching and he laughed softly.

"It appears Masood, that knowledge of your true identity has caused some concern among my senior staff members."

The graying Phoenix was resting on one of Fawke's perches, and he blinked his one eye in response. His two Eagle companions were sleeping, nestled together on another perch, with the larger Eagle's wing placed protectively over the smaller Eagle.

Another gray feather fell from the Phoenix, landing among the half dozen feathers littering the floor, and Albus gently stroked the tired wizard's head. The Phoenix was almost scalding hot, and his lone eye was bright with fever.

"Let me get you some cold water. Just drink a little bit, else you'll get sick."

Albus cupped his hands and brought the cold water to the Phoenix's beak. The bird drank slowly, and then chirped its thanks.

"Masood, they should never have sent you. I would have never agreed to this if I had known how close you are to the Burn."

That comment earned an angry, protesting shriek from Mohammed Masood. His displeasure woke up Bharadwaj Chandrashekhar Singh and his wife Jaya Menaka Kaur and the two eagles sleepily chirped their confusion. The Phoenix apologetically whistled, and the two Eagles drifted back to sleep.

"Shhh… I trust you, Masood. I know you to be a man of integrity and honor. Yes, I recognize that I can not begin to comprehend the debt your school owes Filius, but he will not be happy if he realizes that you are in such distress," Albus whispered.

The Indian Mage chirruped softly, and Albus nodded his head. Again, he offered the Phoenix more water, and the bird drank. The Phoenix rubbed his head against Albus' hand, and Albus accepted the silent apology.

"Yes, I know you're feeling a bit short-tempered, as you do not feel particularly chipper. Tomorrow is almost here, and you then can Burn bright for your beloved India's most esteemed Garuda. Masood, you need to sleep if you can."

The Phoenix placed his head under his right wing, and Albus recognized that the ever so well-mannered Masood was wishing to end their conversation. Therefore, Albus dimmed the lights in his office, and he went back to staring at the two figures flying in the Quidditch Pitch.

A/N - Yes, several reviewers were quite correct. The birds were animagi. :) As always thanks for reviewing and commenting.