Downs and Ups
Monday, 1 March 1943
After the day she'd had on Sunday, Minerva didn't end up sleeping well. Her brain kept her up with thoughts of Rolanda and Plumpton, Nicholas Pomfrey, Mason and Lloyd, and Oliver and her Animagus project. She and Oliver had eventually talked that night about how what he'd said made her feel, and he'd apologized. Still, there was a part of her that didn't feel like he fully understood the extent of her pain, and she wasn't sure how to make him see. She thought that perhaps it would be better for them to talk when they didn't have the barrier of the Mandrake leaf between them; she hoped he could view his behavior more objectively then.
It was a tired Minerva McGonagall who sat down at the Gryffindor table for breakfast Monday morning, and so when the owls flew into the Great Hall and she dutifully paid the Prophet owl that delivered her paper, it took her a little longer than was reasonable to recognize that the second owl that had landed in front of her was Branwen, the McGonagall family owl. A bit confused, Minerva took the letter she carried from her. The pattern that her family had established when Mitchell started at Hogwarts was that the McGonagalls in school would send their letters on Friday nights, which their family back home would receive on Saturdays, and the students would get replies on Sunday morning. The only reason they ever deviated from this pattern was because something had happened at school they wanted to address. Typically, only emergencies were conveyed over the Protean Charm they carried with them in their pendants.
Minerva warily opened the letter, recognizing her father's handwriting at once.
Dear Minerva,
We received an owl from Mason tonight (late last night for you, now, I imagine). He tells us you 'assaulted' Lloyd. We're all – Jon and Diana included – willing to give you the benefit of the doubt in this situation, as we know you to be a generally level-headed young lady, so we would like to get your side of the story.
Mason says he ended up in a fight with Rosier and Dolohov, defending Lloyd against harassment from those boys over this weekend's Quidditch match. He says you and your friends – he named Rolanda and Poppy – intervened in the fight, but that Rolanda made a remark about Mr. Plumpton showing Ravenclaw favoritism. He says Lloyd spoke up to disagree with this, which led to Rolanda calling him a 'fucking wanker,' and you 'slamming' Lloyd against the wall with a powerful spell. He says you got in Lloyd's face, suggested he wasn't worthy of being friends with a McGonagall, and called him a bigot.
I suspect there is truth in this story, but how much, I'm not yet sure of. I'm having a hard time understanding how you became angry enough to react so violently. Perhaps there is something missing on Mason's part about the remark on bigotry.
Minerva, to be completely honest with you, despite what I said about you being level-headed, it would not completely surprise me if the part about the spell turns out to be true. Over the last few years of watching you flourish in Hogwarts, beyond being level-headed, I have also come to know you as someone who is fiercely protective. I wouldn't put it past you to respond that way if you felt you were justified. You have the makings of a formidable witch, but with that comes a responsibility to control your temper. People don't respond to anger.
We all eagerly await your reply.
Much love,
Dad
Minerva folded the letter and, setting her elbows on the table, she put her face in her hands.
"Is everything alright?" Oliver asked.
Minerva sighed and slid her hands down her face. She folded them under her chin and, looking down at her plate, she replied, "Mhmm. Mason wrote home about a stupid…" she grimaced and shook her head. "It's fine."
Oliver eyed her hesitantly, "Are you sure? You don't seem fine."
"I'm tired, and it was just over words I had with his friend Lloyd. I'll handle it."
Oliver frowned, but didn't press her again.
Truthfully, Minerva felt guilty. One of the things she'd thought about as her thoughts kept her up the night before was how she'd probably overreacted. Her father was right. Anger and violence wouldn't change minds and hearts about Rolanda. It might, even, she realized, make things worse. She had just been so enraged on behalf of her friend, who was being treated so unfairly, and that, on top of the rest of the mess her emotions had been in, made her snap. Still, she felt something needed to be done for Rolanda.
Minerva glanced up at the Head Table. Dumbledore was absent. The sixth-years had Transfiguration first thing, though, so perhaps he was in his office preparing for his lesson.
She rose from the table, decision made. Oliver looked up at her curiously, and so she said, "I'll see you later, okay?" Then she leaned down, offering him her cheek.
He kissed it and murmured, "I love you."
"I love you, too."
Minerva walked quickly out of the Great Hall. She wished, now, that she hadn't let herself sleep in a little more than usual because of her restlessness during the night; if she hadn't, she probably would have had more time to talk to Dumbledore before class. There was a decent amount of time, but she wasn't sure how long this conversation was going to take.
His office was only on the first floor, so she reached it quickly. Once she was confronted with the door, though, she suddenly hesitated. The first thing on her mind that she wanted to talk to him about was Rolanda and Plumpton, but Rolanda had already said she didn't want to – she couldn't – tell someone about what he'd said to her. Minerva started pacing in front of the door. Perhaps this was a bad idea. Instinctively, she'd wanted to talk to Dumbledore because he often helped clear her head, but he ultimately was an authority figure here at Hogwarts. He was the Deputy Headmaster. Telling him about Plumpton could cause problems for the flying instructor, and it wasn't even her story. She started questioning whether this was even her business to talk about, but it just seemed so unfair to her that Rolanda could not go to her own Head of House because she was afraid of losing Slughorn's support. Minerva pursed her lips in disgust as she thought of how Slughorn made his students feel like they needed to prioritize their usefulness over their personal needs.
Still pacing, she turned on her heel to walk back in the direction she came from, but suddenly stopped in her tracks. Dumbledore was coming down the hallway, smiling at her pleasantly. His smile faded, though, as he took in the look of shock on her face. Minerva hadn't anticipated this. She expected him to be inside his office, not to come upon her pacing outside his door, debating whether or not to even knock.
"I take it you had not yet decided whether you wanted to talk to me about what's on your mind, Miss McGonagall?" he asked with a kind smile.
Minerva was speechless. She continued to simply stare at him as her brain tried to play catchup. This was not the plan.
He understood that he was correct without her having to say so, though, and continued, "Well, allow me to step into my office so I can leave you out here to continue weighing your options."
A little half-hysterical huff escaped Minerva's throat as Dumbledore passed her, entering his office. She followed him anyway, but opted to lean against the doorframe rather than fully entering. Dumbledore pretended not to notice her as he set down the book she just realized he'd been carrying, and started sifting through the pieces of parchment on his desk.
Eventually, Minerva managed, "I feel like I can't simply leave now, though."
Dumbledore turned to face her. There was an amused twinkle in his eye as he leaned against his desk and folded his hands in front of him. He tilted his head to the side, as if considering her statement. Then, he replied, "You could. You would leave me indefinitely curious, but you certainly could." A small smile curled beneath his beard at this.
Minerva shook her head and snorted softly. She took a step into the office and said, "Is it alright if I close the door?"
He gestured towards it and said, "Please."
Minerva did, and then slowly, hesitantly, came to sit in one of the chairs in front of his desk. She took a deep breath and said, "If I promise what I'm about to say has no bearing on anyone's safety, can you promise to keep it between us?"
Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. He did not reply immediately. Instead, he pushed himself off the edge of his desk and came to sit beside her in the other chair in front of his desk. He took a moment to rearrange his robes before saying, "Ultimately, it is a professor's job to judge what is and isn't a threat to the students, but, if I find I agree with your assessment, yes, it can stay between us. Keeping students' confidence is, after all, one of the duties of a Head of House."
Minerva gave him a tight smile, but then directed her eyes down to her hands resting on her knees, "I understand. Part of my reservations…well, this isn't my story. It's not about me. The person who it is about said she doesn't want to tell anyone, but…I don't know. I think I wanted a more unbiased opinion. I don't know if you can even do anything about it without a first-hand account. This has been bothering me, though, and…I need to know if I'm…unreasonable, perhaps, for reacting the way I've reacted."
She finally chanced a glance back up at Dumbledore. His expression was very serious, but he did not interrupt. Minerva swallowed hard, and continued, "It's about Rolanda. You were at the game. I'm sure you saw her insist that the Ravenclaws scored that goal because of stooging." He nodded. "Well…he said something to her. Mr. Plumpton. About the call. He said something about, he hadn't seen stooging, so unless she wanted to admit to being able to see things the human eye couldn't see, that was his final word." Dumbledore sat up straighter in his chair, but gave no other outward reaction. "Is it…is it unreasonable of me to think that was inappropriate?"
"No," he replied quietly. He sighed, glanced down at his own hands in his lap. She saw his lips press together briefly, and then he looked back up at her. "And you say Miss Robinson will not come forward herself?"
Minerva shook her head, feeling heartened to have that validation. She'd started doubting herself, and it was nice to have someone agree with her.
"Did she say why not?"
Minerva pursed her lips, "Well…she's afraid. She told us it's hard to be half-human, that she was raised to fear prejudice. She's afraid people will whisper she's Slytherin's monster, as someone not completely human in Slytherin House. She's afraid…" Minerva hesitated, not feeling fully comfortable speaking negatively about Slughorn to another professor, "She's afraid that Sl-Professor Slughorn will stop supporting her if he thinks people's prejudice against her outweighs her value as a Quidditch player."
Dumbledore's expression did not change when she mentioned Slughorn, but once she finished speaking, he looked away from her again, over her shoulder, looking thoughtful.
"Well," he said finally. "While I trust you as a source, you are correct that officially, no action can be taken against Mr. Plumpton without a statement from someone who heard what he said. Otherwise, it's hearsay."
Minerva nodded, "I don't think I wanted action to be taken, necessarily—"
"To be frank, Miss McGonagall, I believe action should be taken," Dumbledore interjected. Minerva blinked as she saw a flash of something darker cross his features. "Members of the staff of this school must put aside their personal issues and beliefs when they interact with the students, making every effort to maintain professionalism and fairness." Dumbledore closed his eyes at that and shook his head. A small smile quirked at the corners of his mouth, "Yet here I am, at the height of hypocrisy. I have stepped outside the bounds of professionalism to speak against a colleague."
Minerva gave him a sympathetic smile and said, "You can file that under 'Head of House' duties. You made me feel validated."
Dumbledore chuckled and replied, "Well, I'm glad I could help."
Minerva looked down at her hands. Now that she felt justified again for the way she felt about what had happened to Rolanda, she remembered what all she had said and done because of those feelings. Even with Dumbledore agreeing with her, guilt still rose up within her for the way she'd treated Lloyd. She took a deep breath and said, "I have a confession to make."
Neither of them spoke for a moment. Dumbledore waited patiently while Minerva watched her thumbs rub slowly together. Finally, Minerva continued, "I've felt…very protective of Rolanda, ever since she told me what Mr. Plumpton said. So, yesterday…I was already in a bad mood. For a different reason. But my friends and I intervened in a confrontation between my cousin and his friends, and Rosier and Dolohov, and…Lloyd Ravensdale said that perhaps Rolanda shouldn't be allowed to play Quidditch." Minerva swallowed. She couldn't look at Dumbledore. "I overreacted." She pursed her lips. She couldn't continue. She didn't want her favorite professor to think less of her, having such a clear image in his head of what she'd done.
Dumbledore did not say anything immediately. As the seconds ticked by, Minerva felt compelled to look up at him to try to gauge his reaction by the expression on his face. She blinked when she met his eyes. He looked…calm. There was a softness in his expression that she had not expected, and she was so surprised by it that she wasn't able to read into that expression to discern a reason for it. Now that she'd looked up at him, he finally spoke, "As a Prefect," he began. Minerva swallowed hard, nervous. "And, as someone who hopes to be a teacher at Hogwarts someday, what would you have done if you had come upon the scene rather than been a participant?"
Minerva blinked at him in surprise. She wondered if this was a test. She sat up straighter in her chair, considering his question seriously. After a moment's consideration, she tentatively replied, "I'd probably take points and recommend a detention."
He started scratching his beard thoughtfully. "How many points?"
"Er," Minerva murmured, "well, I haven't ever taken more than fifteen points…"
"So, fifteen points from Gryffindor then," Dumbledore replied matter-of-factly. Minerva stared at him in disbelief. He raised his eyebrows and added, "And detention, of course, this Friday. You'll come here instead of Dueling Club."
They stared at each other. Minerva was having a hard time regaining control of the absolutely dumbfounded expression on her face, while Dumbledore had a look that could perhaps be described as pleasant amusement. His eyes twinkled at her as she stared. Eventually, she shut her mouth and looked away, blushing.
"Now that we have that settled," Dumbledore began. Minerva looked back up at him hesitantly. His expression had softened again, in that inexplicable way that confused her. There was more seriousness in his eyes, now, and he continued, "Tell me, Miss McGonagall: do you feel any less guilty?"
Minerva's lips parted again, surprised by the question. She did not understand the turn this conversation had taken at all. She had told him in the first place because she'd wanted to try to clear her conscience, certainly. She didn't know if she had expected him to punish her for it, but now, any vague ideas about that seemed foolish. And he seemed to already know that. Why, then, he'd bothered to punish her at all was baffling to her.
Dumbledore was still awaiting a response. Quietly, she said, "No."
He gave her a small, sympathetic smile and said, "The Hogwarts punishment system works on students who put a great deal of meaning into it. For students who have, perhaps, outgrown the points system, or have been made wise to greater punishments in the world than detention, the system, admittedly, does very little." Minerva frowned slightly and looked back down into her lap. Dumbledore added quietly, "You must deal with any feelings of guilt you have on your own. I cannot absolve you of them."
She looked up at him again at that. Then, unbidden, words of impertinence fell from her lips: "Have you…?" She trailed off without finishing as the sound of her own words embarrassed her. He raised his eyebrows at the unexpected question. Minerva felt heat rise to her cheeks. "I'm so sorry, please, forget…"
She trailed off as she noticed, to her relief, amusement twinkling in his eyes. He chuckled, "If there is one thing I've learned about you over the last few years, it's that you are unabashedly curious." He smiled, but averted his gaze, "I think everyone, at some point or another, does something in their lives that makes them feel guilty. Probably many things. I am no different. But perhaps my transgressions are more severe than yours." He still did not look at her, but his little smile faltered. "I'm sure that a simple apology will help you work towards overcoming yours."
Minerva's heart was pounding, though she wasn't sure why.
Dumbledore checked his watch, "Well, your Transfiguration class starts in just a few minutes. We should head into the classroom." He stood, and Minerva followed his lead. Dumbledore levitated a stack of parchments on his desk and gestured for her to go ahead of them through the door to his classroom.
Friday, 5 March 1943
The week passed quickly as Minerva went through the motions of her normal routine. Quidditch practice, Transfiguration Club, on top of all of her classes and sixth-year workload kept her busy. She'd apologized to Lloyd, though the smug look on the fourth-year boys' faces had made her feel less than genuine in her apology. It had taken a great deal of willpower to not slap them both round the face. But it was over now, Mason was placated, and her family moved on.
Pomona also finally broke up with Theodore during the week, which made hanging out as a group a little awkward. Neither of them were particularly upset about the development, but still, their group as a whole hadn't met to study or sit by the lake at all that week. Theodore spent more time with his Hufflepuff friend Ben Harris and, to the great amusement of Pomona and her friends, Pomona's other ex-boyfriend, Gene Wood.
As arranged, Minerva made her way to Dumbledore's office Friday afternoon to serve her detention instead of walking with her friends to Dueling Club. She was disappointed to be missing that practice, but she supposed this is what she asked for, even though she was still confused about the conversation she'd had with Dumbledore that had led to this detention.
She separated from her friends early. The Gryffindors had started to irritate her as they talked animatedly about Dueling Club. She'd felt excluded from the conversation. Nicholas had been dominating it, and even Oliver hadn't turned to say something to her once. On top of that, they'd been growing louder by the minute; she'd needed some peace and quiet.
As such, she reached Dumbledore's office twenty minutes early. She raised her fist to knock, but the unexpected voice of Professor Merrythought stayed her hand.
"…see how, at this point, we can keep carrying on like this."
Minerva's eyebrows shot up, and her cheeks colored as her mind jumped to inappropriate conclusions. She knew she ought to knock, but she was a deeply curious person, and couldn't bring herself to stop listening.
She heard Dumbledore sigh, a faint sound that suggested he was farther from the door than Merrythought. "I know. But what other choice do we have?"
"I see several, Albus," Merrythought replied sternly.
"Do you? Well, then, let's hear them."
There was a pause. Minerva could sense from Dumbledore's tone that he expected to discard Merrythought's ideas, and could imagine the tight look on the Defense professor's face.
"Well," Merrythought began in a clipped voice, "for one, we could close the school."
Minerva blinked in surprise, suddenly having to shift her perception of this conversation. This was not about a clandestine relationship between the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw Heads of House, but about the Chamber of Secrets.
"The students' families are dying out there, Galatea. Surely you know that we cannot in good conscience send them away to their potential deaths," Dumbledore replied. "Hogwarts is safer—"
"We don't know that," Merrythought snapped.
"No one has died—"
"And what if someone does!"
There was a pause. Minerva's heart raced. Eventually, Dumbledore replied in a quiet voice, "Within these walls, whatever is going on has not killed anyone. Without, the Walpurgisnacht have killed hundreds in Britain alone. We cannot make decisions based on what-ifs when lives are at stake."
Merrythought did not reply immediately, but when she finally did, she spoke in the same quiet tone, "The enemy you know is better than the one you don't."
"The Ministry, the Resistance, and Hogwarts combined do not have the resources to protect them all from the enemy we know," Dumbledore returned.
"Fine, then," Merrythought huffed. "Let's move the students."
"Where? What building is big enough, fortified enough? And what if the threat moves with us? We would have moved to a building less well-defended against the Walpurgisnacht without solving the problem."
"I thought we couldn't make decisions based on what-ifs," Merrythought replied coldly.
Dumbledore did not seem to have anything to say to that. Minerva waited, her heart still beating rapidly, wondering what he would say in response to that.
"It is ten-til, Galatea," he said quietly, finally. "McGonagall will be here shortly for her detention, and you have students to torture." His voice lilted in amusement at that. "Ultimately, Armando makes the final decisions about the school. Take your concerns to him if you have not been appeased by this conversation."
"Armando would act if you said to," Merrythought replied stiffly. The volume of her voice had changed; it seemed she was now facing the door. Minerva's eyes widened. She quickly cast a Silencing Charm on herself and ran a few feet back down the hallway. She was just removing the charm and trying to set a normal walking pace as the door to Dumbledore's office opened. Merrythought stepped out, looking rather serious. She turned in Minerva's direction, and immediately caught sight of her. Minerva gave her a tight smile, hoping she didn't look too guilty.
"Detention, tonight, Miss McGonagall?" Merrythought asked casually as they approached each other, her eyebrows raised.
Minerva laughed nervously, "Yes, professor. I'm sorry to miss your club."
An amused smile quirked slightly at the corners of the professor's lips, "Yes, it's been a while since I've had an odd number to organize. You're missing an interesting one."
Minerva gave her an uncomfortable smile.
"Well, perhaps this will remind you not to use what I'm teaching you against those who can't defend themselves," Merrythought said with a wink. Minerva's face colored. Merrythought squeezed her upper arm and said, "Have a good evening, Miss McGonagall. I will see you at tomorrow's club meeting."
Minerva nodded, and the two witches parted ways. Minerva couldn't believe she'd gotten away with eavesdropping; she'd had a close call. Finally allowing herself to relax, Minerva approached Dumbledore's office door once again and actually knocked this time. Dumbledore called for her to enter, and so she did. She found him seated behind his desk. He smiled up at her as she entered.
"You just missed Professor Merrythought," he informed her.
"I saw her in the corridor, actually," Minerva replied.
Dumbledore nodded, "I'm sorry you'll be missing her club, but I am not in the business of making detentions convenient for students."
He didn't mention Slughorn, but she sensed by the twinkle in his eyes that he was thinking of the way the Slytherin Head of House had arranged Rolanda's month of detentions to not interfere with Quidditch. Minerva's lips quirked, but she said nothing.
"Well then, we should get started, shouldn't we?" he asked, clapping his hands together. He stood and picked up a wooden box of rolled parchment off his desk. "Let's go to the classroom."
Minerva obediently followed him into the Transfiguration classroom, where he set his box down on one of the student desks. "Today, I'm going to have you mark first-year essays for me."
Minerva looked up at him in surprise. He smiled, "You know the material. I'm confident you can mark them properly. I've written up a chart for you to use for deciding the final mark. If you have any questions, I'll be sitting over there." He pointed at his desk at the front of the classroom. "You'd best get started; we wouldn't want to miss dinner."
Feeling a little surprised, still, but also a growing sense of pride, Minerva peered into the box and started pulling out her materials. He'd provided her with a quill and red ink along with his chart, an already marked essay, and the rest of the first-year essays. She took a seat at the desk and got to work. This was hardly a detention at all. The only thing wrong with it, as far as Minerva was concerned, was the fact that she couldn't go to Dueling Club. She was honored that he trusted her enough to mark essays for him. Admittedly, they were only first-year essays, but still, he was leaving her to her own devices. And, he'd called her McGonagall. Not to her directly, but to Merrythought, he'd dropped "Miss." It could mean nothing, but Minerva liked to think it meant he saw her more as a colleague.
Minerva put on her square-framed spectacles and set to her marking with a smile on her face.
Saturday, 13 March 1943
Minerva looked up at the ceiling of the Great Hall with pursed lips and a scowl, as if the rainy weather reflected there was a personal attack from the universe. She looked back down at her red-clad Quidditch team, seated around her eating their breakfast with some nervousness. It looked like they'd be playing their match against Hufflepuff in the rain.
"Hey," Oliver said. Everyone looked around at him. Minerva raised her eyebrows at his poorly-suppressed grin. Clearly fighting to keep his voice even, he asked, "What do you call dangerous precipitation?"
The Gryffindor team looked around at each other, perplexed. Minerva, with her elbow on the table, rested her chin on her fist and sighed, "What?"
"A rain…of terror," he replied with a snigger.
Donnie put his face in his hands and shook his head, but as his shoulders started shaking, Amelia Livingston started laughing at him. Hank Cunningham grinned at his fellow Chaser and girlfriend, and then snorted as Donnie started laughing out loud. Minerva rubbed her face with her hands in a long-suffering way, shaking her head, but she was grinning. Prewett rolled his eyes at them all, though a small smile quirked at his lips. Catriona McCormack started laughing tentatively in disbelief as she watched her teammates fall apart at the stupid joke, which turned into fuller laughter as Oliver pointed encouragingly her way, taking her laughter as appreciation. A huff of half-hysterical laughter escaped Minerva as she stared at her boyfriend, still with her face in her hands. Oliver grinned across the table at her. She couldn't help but smile back, though she shook her head at him as she did.
Stupid though it may have been, Oliver's joke succeeded in breaking through the nervous energy among the players, and despite the rain, they left the Great Hall together in high spirits. Minerva and Oliver led the way, hand-in-hand, both of them with their wands pointed to the sky to protect themselves from the rain as they walked. Their boots squelched through the mud as they moved quickly, kicking up mud and soaking the hems of their Quidditch robes. They made their way first to the broomshed, and then to the Gryffindor changing rooms in the Quidditch pitch.
Once she was safely inside the changing rooms, Minerva waved her wand a few times at her boots and robes, cleaning and drying them.
"You know they're going to get wet again as soon as you go outside," Prewett drawled as he watched her.
Minerva looked up at him with raised eyebrows, "Exactly." He blinked. A small smile twisted at her mouth and she replied, "It's going to be a miserable one, so I'd rather start the game as warm and dry as possible. We have some time until the game starts. I'd rather not go into it with wrinkled toes."
There were some mutters at this among her teammates, and they set to cleaning and drying themselves off as well. After taking care of his boots and robes, Oliver walked up to Minerva and wrapped her in a hug. Minerva leaned into the embrace, resting her head against his shoulder. She felt some of the tension leave her body as they stood there, just hugging, for a good minute or two. Eventually, he murmured into her ear, "How are you doing, Captain?"
Minerva hummed.
Oliver chuckled, "That good, huh?"
Minerva snorted. She pulled away from him slightly so she could look at his face. Their relationship had improved over the last two weeks, ever since he'd apologized for calling her project stupid. He'd been on much better behavior, with very little pouting about the continued lack of physical intimacy. Minerva was grateful and relieved. She also thought that the growing excitement over the upcoming Quidditch match helped improve things as well.
She smiled at him with genuine warmth and affection as she said, "I'm not looking forward to this game, but you're helping."
He raised his eyebrows, "I'm helping?"
"Mhmm," Minerva hummed, nodding. She stroked his face and continued, "For starters, this is a very nice hug."
Oliver grinned at her and wrapped his arms around her tighter.
Minerva smiled, "And I appreciated you breaking the tension at breakfast. I wasn't sure what to say."
"Minerva McGonagall had nothing to say?" Oliver asked, mock-scandalized. "Have we checked if it's actually raining, or is the sky falling?"
Minerva swatted the back of his head playfully. Oliver grinned. Minerva started scratching soothing circles on the back of his neck where she'd hit him and murmured, "I think we make a good team."
"I think so too," he murmured with a soft smile. She watched his eyes flicker to her lips briefly before meeting her eyes again. "I wish I could kiss you right now."
"I wish I could too," she replied quietly with a small, regretful half-smile. He grinned at that admission, and reached forward to place a lingering kiss on her forehead instead. Minerva titled her chin down in service of this, smiling.
Once Oliver straightened, Minerva pulled away regretfully, turning to observe her team. They were all turned pointedly away from Minerva and Oliver's corner of the room, although Minerva caught a grin on Donnie's face that likely had nothing to do with the Quaffle he was throwing into the air and catching.
Minerva took a deep breath, hoping her face wasn't as red as it was warm, and walked purposefully to stand in front of her team. Oliver went to sit down next to Donnie, who stopped throwing the Quaffle and turned his grin on his best friend. Oliver rolled his eyes at Donnie, but he had a smile on his face too.
"I know we haven't had many opportunities to practice in the rain," Minerva began, looking around at her team. They grimaced back at her. "We've had a few, though, and I know that, no matter what, we have a strong team. And," she raised her eyebrows significantly at Prewett and smiled at him in amusement, "no one here's dating anyone on the opposing team. Unless you have something you'd like to tell me, Catriona?"
The team laughed, and Catriona turned pink as she shook her head.
"Good, then no one should have any reservations about giving them all we've got," Minerva continued, grinning at them. "We won our first game, but so did they, and by a lot more points than we did. The second game of the season is the time to build a cushion for the Cup, so I want to see you play hard and rack up those points to give us the best chance to win it all."
Hank whooped, drawing laughter out of his fellow Chasers. The team spent the rest of the time before the game reviewing formations on the blackboard, and making sure they all had well-cast Impervius Charms on their Quidditch goggles. All too soon, though, they heard Richard's voice projecting around the Quidditch Pitch and into the sanctuary of their changing rooms. "Good morning, loyal Quidditch fans! I'm very pleased to see you all on this rainy Saturday morning, but I'm sure you'd like this to end sooner rather than later, so let's bring out your teams!"
The Gryffindors mounted their brooms as Richard spoke, and were ready to fly out as he announced them. "Let's hear a big roar for the Gryffindor team! Keeper Donnie Longbottom leads the way, followed by Chasers Hank Cunningham, Amelia Livingston, and Catriona McCormack. Then there's Beaters Ignatius Prewett and Oliver Brown, and last but certainly not least, Seeker and Captain Minerva McGonagall!"
As the Gryffindors took their lap around the pitch through the biting rain, Minerva noticed that the stands were emptier than usual. She didn't blame them. The Gryffindor and Hufflepuff sections were the biggest, though some Slytherins and Ravenclaws still came out to see the game.
"Now let's give a warm welcome to the Hufflepuff team! Seeker David Browning is out first, with the brother Beaters Herbert and Chester Milton close behind. They're followed by the Chasers, Audrey Lee, Bethany McGeehan, and Renée Edwards! Bringing up the rear, but no less dear, is Keeper and Captain Lucille Anderson!"
Minerva wondered if Richard thought of these things on the spot, or if he actually spent time planning the ridiculous things he was going to say.
"Both of these teams won their first matches back in autumn, so we should be in for an interesting game!"
The Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs flew into position, and Plumpton flew between them. They hadn't even started the game, and Minerva could already feel her robes clinging to her skin.
"Captains, shake!"
Minerva and Lucille flew towards each other with grimaces on their faces and shook firmly. Once they were back in position, Plumpton blew his whistle two times, and then threw the Quaffle into the air. Catriona was quick, but Edwards was quicker, and the Hufflepuff Chaser snatched the Quaffle right as Catriona's fingers touched it. Edwards tucked it securely under her arm and flew off towards the Gryffindor goalposts after Donnie, who'd shot off towards them the second the Quaffle left Plumpton's hands. Minerva rose above the action to monitor it all from above, and watched as Amelia and Hank attempted to block Edwards' path. Edwards anticipated them, though, and managed to swerve around them. Her fellow Hufflepuff Chasers Lee and McGeehan flew around to either side of her, and the three witches flew in a tight formation towards the goalposts. Prewett cracked a Bludger their way, forcing them to break formation; Edwards and McGeehan veered off in one direction, while Lee dodged the other way. Minerva squinted through the rain as the Chasers closed in on the goalposts. Donnie was in position. The Hufflepuff Chasers regrouped and started passing the Quaffle between them despite the rain. Minerva pursed her lips, hoping one of her Chasers would take advantage of the opportunity. The Hufflepuff Chasers were tight, but the Quaffle was slippery. It was possible one of the Gryffindors could take it. The Gryffindor Chasers, though, were held up by a combined Bludger attack from the Milton brothers. They did not make it before –
"—to Lee, Lee shoots – Lee scores! Right from the start, that's 10 points to Hufflepuff. Hufflepuff starts the game in the lead," Richard announced. The Hufflepuffs seated behind Donnie's goalposts were cheering wildly. Minerva's stomach dropped. She had a bad feeling about this. She flew lower and started circling the pitch a little closer to the action, just in case things went south and she needed to catch the Snitch sooner than she'd planned.
And things did go south. Minerva wasn't sure if it was the strength of the Hufflepuff Chasers and Beaters, the weather, her own team's weaknesses, or some combination of those three things, but the game quickly turned into a pummeling match of the Gryffindor team. The Hufflepuffs flew like there wasn't any rain at all, and worked together as though they could read each other's minds. Conversely, the Gryffindor team's best shooter, Catriona, turned out to have slippery fingers in rainy weather. Every time she dropped the ball, Minerva's nails dug into the shaft of her broomstick a little deeper. Donnie seemed to be absolutely falling apart at the goalposts, losing confidence with every goal that the Hufflepuffs scored against him. After they scored their fourteenth goal on him, bringing the score to a stomach-churning 140 to 0, Minerva started following the Hufflepuff Seeker, if only to stop him from catching the Snitch should he see it.
With gritted teeth, Minerva watched her veteran Chasers fly down the pitch towards Lucille at the Hufflepuff goalposts as she followed Browning. Hank and Amelia flew together like they were dancing, weaving right and left, up and down, corkscrewing around one another. The idea was that it was disorienting to follow, and made it hard to keep track of who had the ball. Minerva hoped they weren't actually passing the ball, though; Gryffindor had suffered enough dropped balls for one game. Catriona followed behind them, with the Hufflepuff Chasers surrounding her. Oliver beat a Bludger towards the Hufflepuff Chasers, but they quickly regrouped after dodging it. Minerva scanned the pitch for the other Bludger, and grimaced as she watched Herbert Milton flying to meet it, presumably to hit it towards her Chasers. Gryffindor needed to score. Minerva cast a regretful look towards Browning, closed her eyes tightly, hoping her decision would pay off – and dove.
"McGonagall's diving! Does she see the Snitch through all this rain? Browning is right on her tail. Herbert's closing in on that Bludger, he has to make a choice – his bat connects – and he sends the Bludger flying towards McGonagall!" Minerva grinned and pulled up, safely away from where he would have sent the Bludger. "It looks like it was a feint, to draw Herbert away from Livingston and Cunningham – and Livingston scores! The score is 140 to 10, with Hufflepuff in the lead." Minerva punched her fist into the air, feeling relieved to at least be on the board. She hoped that this meant that her team was finding their rhythm, finally, and that they would start doing better. She resumed following Browning, just in case.
Gryffindor did not find their rhythm. After Hufflepuff scored three more goals, Minerva flew close to Plumpton to make sure he could see her through the rain as she called for a time out. Plumpton blew his whistle, and all of the players grounded. Minerva's team flew to where she landed on the edge of the pitch. They were all soaked to the bone and shivering. Donnie looked distressed as he landed, and he immediately said, "I'm so, so sorry."
Minerva's lips were thin, and her back rigid and tense, but still, she asked, "Are you okay?"
Donnie closed his eyes and shook his head. His shoulders slumped. Oliver stepped forward and put both hands on his best friend's shoulders supportively and said, "Hey, hey, mate, come on."
"I believe in this team," Minerva said emphatically, while Oliver got Donnie to stand up straight again. "When I said this team is cohesive, that we're strong, those weren't just words to me. I still think, if we can slow them down and score a few more goals, and if I catch the Snitch, we can win this. Not with the lead I'd hoped for, but we can win and prevent them from pulling far ahead in the rankings for the Cup. To that end," she turned her gaze on her two Beaters, "I want you to take out one of their Chasers."
Prewett and Brown glanced at each other with raised brows. Slowly, they nodded. Minerva nodded back at them seriously. "We can't play nice anymore. We need to go back out there and be aggressive. I know you're wet, and cold, and miserable. I am too. But we need to show them how dangerous a wounded lion is." Her hands on her hips, she raised her eyebrows at them all significantly. Oliver clapped his hands together at that and whooped.
Minerva turned to Donnie and said gently, "Do you need more time?"
He grimaced and shook his head. "I'm ready."
She gave him an encouraging smile and reached out to pat him on the shoulder, "Good." She then turned to the Chasers and said, "I want you to try passing the Quaffle less. If I see it drop again, I might have a stroke." Catriona's face turned red at that and she ducked her head. Taking pity on the fourth-year girl, Minerva said, "It's alright, Catriona. You're a good Chaser. Although it seems you need more practice in the rain." Catriona nodded quickly, and then hesitantly looked up to meet Minerva's eyes. A small smile graced her face when she saw the wry smile curling at Minerva's lips. She nodded more surely.
"Alright, then, team. Let's take this opportunity to reapply our Impervius Charms and get back to playing Quidditch," Minerva said to them all.
Once play resumed, Minerva was pleased to see her team flying like they had a fire lit under them. To her delight, her Chasers scored two more goals. Donnie did, unfortunately, let one more slip past him, but he was blocking so many more shots than he'd been before. After her Chasers scored their second goal, they brought the score to 180 to 30, Hufflepuff. If she caught the Snitch now, they would tie. She hoped her Chasers could pull off just one more goal, and that she would be able to find the Snitch before Hufflepuff managed to score another. Minerva continued to tail Browning, just in case he saw something she didn't see before she wanted him to.
"Edwards has the Quaffle now, Edwards is making her way to Longbottom with McGeehan and Lee flanking her. Prewett and Brown are volleying a Bludger back and forth. It looks like they have plans for those Chasers. Chester hits a Bludger at Brown, perhaps to throw off his rhythm – and Brown hits Milton's Bludger clean across the field in the complete opposite direction from the action, sending the Miltons after it and making clear that he and Prewett are building up to something. Prewett and Brown are closing in on the Hufflepuff Chasers. Edwards seems unconcerned as she enters the scoring area, but – oo!"
Minerva's eyes widened as in a matter of seconds, too fast for Richard to announce, Oliver deviated from the rhythm he'd established with Prewett and slammed their Bludger directly at Edwards from just a few feet away. She had no hands on her broom, as they were both on the Quaffle, and her back was stretched in preparation to make her shot. She made for a perfect target, and the Bludger connected with her body on her side. Edwards spun out of control, dropping the Quaffle immediately. Her hands reached downwards for her broom, but with her spinning she missed and leant forward for support that wasn't there. Minerva gasped with the rest of the crowd as Edwards fell from her broom. Plumpton's whistle blew sharply and he dove after her, his wand drawn. He slowed her fall, to Minerva's relief, and lowered her gently into the mud beneath Donnie's goalposts, landing next to her. Minerva took a deep breath, not realizing until that moment that she'd been holding it. She'd wanted a Hufflepuff Chaser injured, not killed.
With Edwards safely on the ground, Minerva remembered herself and that Plumpton's whistle meant that all players should be grounded. She landed, and her team followed suit. The Hufflepuffs were converging around Edwards and Plumpton. The Gryffindors came to Minerva again. Minerva searched Oliver's face as he approached her. He looked paler than usual, and not just because the rain had made the red hair plastered to his face darker. She could see in his eyes that he was shaken. She reached out a hand towards him, grasping one of his tightly, and murmured, "It's alright, she's alright." He nodded stiffly.
The Gryffindors stood together in silence, waiting for Plumpton's verdict. They couldn't see Edwards, since she was completely surrounded by her team. Gibson, the Hufflepuff Head of House, and Madam Jenison, the school matron, made it to the field, presumably from the staff section, and pushed their way to Edwards. Moments later, Edwards was floating on a conjured stretcher with Madam Jenison leading her out of the Quidditch Pitch. Plumpton flew up to Richard to explain the situation, which Richard relayed to the crowd: "Renée Edwards is out for the rest of the game, and Hufflepuff will continue to play with only two Chasers."
"They're going to want revenge," Minerva warned her team. "Prewett, Oliver, I want you to make protecting the Chasers your priority. Play defensively." Prewett and Oliver nodded.
Minerva's prediction proved correct. The Miltons handled the Bludgers aggressively, seemingly trying to even the playing field, but Prewett and Oliver were on top of the Gryffindor Chasers at all times, ready to protect them from any Bludgers the Miltons directed their way. With this protection, Hank was able to score a goal on Lucille. Minerva's heart jumped to her throat. The score was 180 to 40. If she could catch the Snitch, her team would win.
Nervous energy flowed through Minerva's veins as she scanned the pitch for the Snitch more desperately than she'd ever had before. She felt the pressure doubly because if Browning caught the Snitch instead, it would be nearly impossible to beat Hufflepuff for the Quidditch Cup with that kind of lead. Minerva couldn't let that happen. Searching for a tiny, fast, golden ball through sheets of rain on a grey day was frustratingly difficult, though. She was soaking wet, and rain water flew between her chattering teeth as she circled the pitch, making the Mandrake leaf in her mouth even more uncomfortable than it usually was. She was absolutely miserable, and desperate for the game to be over. Her eyes squinted, trying to see through the rain as she searched for that elusive Snitch.
"—and Browning dives!" Minerva's stomach dropped, and she whirled around to find Browning. Without a second thought, without taking time to determine if it was real or a feint, she shot off in his direction. "McGonagall's flying to meet him! Prewett sends a Bludger after Browning – and Browning pulls up! It was a feint, and – McGeehan scores! The score is 190 to 40, Hufflepuff."
Minerva released a scream of frustration that was covered by the rain. The same bloody move – she took a deep breath. She had to stay focused, and calm. Her team needed her to locate that Snitch – and I need my bloody team to make another bloody goal!
Taking even, calming breaths, Minerva flew up again to resume circling the pitch. The second-year Hufflepuff Seeker flashed her a grin as they passed each other. Minerva ignored him, and decided to fly a little higher. She looked up – and blinked. She blinked several times, trying to clear her vision, but each time she opened her eyes, the glint of gold in the dark sky above her was still there. Her heart pounded. She glanced back down at the game below. Her Chasers were flying together in a tight formation, with her Beaters protecting them. They were headed for Lucille. She glanced back up. The Snitch was darting around, changing position, but her eyes found it like a magnet now that she was aware of its relative position and distance. Glancing down again, her heart jumped to find Browning looking up at her. She realized she hadn't moved in a while, which would be suspicious to him. She didn't need to be able to make out his eyes to know that they slipped past hers, because seconds after she noticed him looking her way, he was flying upwards, barreling towards the Snitch like a cannonball.
Minerva didn't have any other choice. She turned her Cleansweep Three upwards and shot after the Snitch. She had to block him, but she wanted to stay on top of the little golden ball, too. It looked like her Chasers might make a goal, and if they did, she wanted to snatch that ball out of the air immediately. Her instinct was to block out everything else as she focused on Browning and the Snitch, but she needed to keep her ears open to listen for that goal. She heard a Bludger whistling their way, from whom she didn't know or care, and moved to avoid it. She was closing in on the Snitch, but she hadn't heard Richard announce a goal. Minerva glanced down and saw a red-clad Chaser – she couldn't make out who at this distance – tear away from a yellow-clad Chaser. Richard's voice was fainter at this height, especially with the rain, but she strained to hear him say, "Cunningham pulls away with the Quaffle! Lee is on top of him, Lee tries to steal – Cunningham passes to McCormack, McCormack hurtles towards Anderson at the Hufflepuff goalposts—"
Browning finally caught up to her on his Cleansweep Two. Minerva needed to be more aggressive now. She flew directly into his path, forcing him to dodge her. Every time he redirected, she was there, blocking him from the Snitch. She was so close she could hear the Snitch's fluttering wings as it darted around just above her head, and so when the sound grew fainter, she knew it was flying away. She knew before Browning tried to feint her which way it was going, so when he started flying in the opposite direction to try to throw her off, she followed the Snitch instead. Browning's lips formed a curse she couldn't hear, and he darted after her and the Snitch. They moved together like aerial acrobats, circling the constantly-moving Snitch together.
"—AND MCCORMACK SCORES! The score is 190 to 50, Huff—" Plumpton blew his whistle two times, signaling the end of the game. The second Minerva heard Richard say "scores," she'd twisted her body away from Browning and snatched the Snitch out of the air. "MCGONAGALL CAUGHT THE SNITCH! With a come-from-behind victory, Gryffindor wins with a score of 190 to 200!"
Minerva flew down to meet her team with the fist holding the Snitch high in the air. They met her in mid-air. Oliver reached her first and wrapped his arms around her tightly, the shafts of their broomsticks banging together awkwardly. She laughed in delight as he peppered her cheek with kisses, and then as the rest of her team piled on around her with exclamations of joy and relief. Minerva's heart felt like it was about to explode with pride and elation and love. Even Prewett was there, grinning and laughing on the edge of the team.
"Alright, alright!" Minerva exclaimed, grinning. "Let's get dry, shall we?"
The Gryffindor team cheered at that.
Minerva and Oliver entered the Hospital Wing, still in their Quidditch robes – though they'd dried them with magic – with some trepidation. Oliver had insisted on making sure Edwards was alright before going up to Gryffindor Tower, and Minerva decided to go with him in support and in a show of goodwill from the opposing team's Captain. The entirety of the Hufflepuff team had made it there before them, though, and they all looked up from their positions around Edwards's bed as the two Gryffindors entered. Edwards's boyfriend, Thomas Laskey, was seated by her head.
Edwards lifted her head from her pillow to look at her newest visitors, and smiled. "Look who it is," she said with a teasing lilt. She turned to Thomas and said, "Help me sit up, will you?"
As Thomas adjusted her pillows and helped her into a sitting position, Oliver stepped forward and said, "We wanted to make sure you were alright. I'm sorry about the Bludger."
"That's the game," Edwards replied with a reassuring smile. "No harm done. A few broken ribs, but Madam Jenison put me back together easily."
"Good, I'm glad," Oliver replied, rubbing the back of his head awkwardly under the scrutiny of the entire Hufflepuff team.
"Thank you for visiting me, I appreciate it," Edwards said. Minerva searched the fifth-year's expression for insincerity, but found none. Her expression was genuine and open. Oliver grinned back at her, relaxing slightly.
"I'm glad you're alright," Minerva said with a small smile.
The group exchanged semi-awkward goodbyes, and Minerva and Oliver headed for Gryffindor Tower hand-in-hand.
When they stepped through the portrait hole into the Gryffindor common room, they were greeted with a loud cheer. Minerva's eyebrows shot up and she met Oliver's wide, bemused eyes briefly before they were surrounded by their housemates. It seemed as though, despite the stress that the team had been under throughout the game that made them less inclined to celebrate, the rest of Gryffindor house was thrilled at this victory. Most of the game had been painful for them to watch, but the last part had been extremely exciting. Winning a game that they were sure they were going to lose proved to be something the Gryffindors wanted to talk in circles about, and to Minerva, it quickly grew exhausting. They wanted to talk about how she'd blocked Browning and caught the Snitch, and about how Oliver had taken out Edwards, but not much else.
Minerva finally managed to pull away from the crowd with the excuse that she was in desperate need of a hot shower – which was true – and practically ran up the stairs to the girls' dormitories once she reached them. Two of her dormmates, Clarisse and Thalia, were sitting on their beds. They stopped talking when Minerva entered and looked around at her. Thalia smirked, "I take it from the noise downstairs that we won?"
"You didn't go?" Minerva asked with raised eyebrows, kicking off her boots.
Clarisse and Thalia exchanged a glance while Minerva took a seat on her trunk. Clarisse gave her a sheepish smile, "Well, it was cold and rainy, so…"
Minerva snorted as she pulled off her wet socks, but said, "I understand." She stood again and dropped her gloves and goggles onto her trunk. "We won by ten points."
"Ten points?" Clarisse and Thalia exclaimed together, exchanging stunned looks.
"Yes, it was awful. The end was exciting but that was about it. Now, since I was out in that cold, rainy weather you avoided, I would like to take a hot shower."
Clarisse and Thalia gestured in the direction of the bathroom with wide, stunned eyes.
Feeling clean and dry after her shower and some magic, Minerva snuck up the stairs to the sixth-year boys' dormitory. She didn't want to be stopped in the common room again, and thankfully, none of the Gryffindors noticed her as she stepped off the girls' staircase and right onto the boys'. When she reached the door to the sixth-year dormitory, she knocked. She smiled in delight as Oliver answered, opening the door just a crack at first, and then wider to admit her once he realized who was on the other side. He dropped the towel he'd been using to cover his bare chest when he answered the door, and Minerva raised her eyebrows in appreciation. He grinned at her, but put a finger to his lips, and then pointed to the bed she knew belonged to Donnie. His curtains were closed. Minerva nodded in understanding and stepped closer to Oliver to whisper, "A nap seems like a good idea, honestly."
Oliver gestured dramatically to his bed with a hopeful expression. Minerva smiled at him and walked over to his bed, pulling back the covers and slipping under them. Oliver followed her with delight. He closed the side of the curtains facing the door and then came around to enter from the other side. Before he did, though, he leaned down to Minerva's level and whispered, "I prefer to sleep in my underwear, is that alright?"
Minerva nodded, and he unbuckled the belt and pulled off the pants that he'd probably only just put on, discarding them on top of his trunk before sliding into bed with her and closing the last side of his curtains. They both sighed happily as he settled down beside her and draped his arm over her, pulling her to him. After the cold, miserable Quidditch match, Minerva was glad to be cuddled up against Oliver's warm body. She hadn't realized how tired she was until this moment.
"Augusta's in there too," Oliver murmured into her ear. "So who knows if they're actually napping."
Minerva hummed a quiet laugh, her eyes closed. She didn't care what Donnie and Augusta were doing. She was in a cocoon of warmth and happiness, on the edge of sleep, and nothing else in the world mattered. With her back pressed against Oliver's bare chest; with his arm across her chest, between her breasts, holding her securely but not too tightly to him; and with her hand over his, she felt at home. She and Oliver drifted off to sleep peacefully.
When Minerva opened her eyes after waking naturally from her nap, she felt disoriented at first. The curtains were familiar, as they were the same as the ones around her bed, but the smells were different, and, of course – she turned slightly to smile at Oliver's sleeping face. Affection for the man sleeping beside her fluttered through her heart, and she settled back down beside him. As she laid there, content to let him spoon her in his sleep since she was very much enjoying being held by him, she realized she'd woken up aroused. She couldn't kiss him, because of her Mandrake leaf, but that was the only thing she couldn't do. They'd tried continuing with the physical part of their relationship during the first week of her having the Mandrake leaf, but she hadn't enjoyed it. They'd only tried it when he'd been aroused, though. Minerva's mind started envisioning all of the things they could do, the things she was suddenly very interested in trying.
Oliver needed to wake up first, though. Heart pounding but decision made, Minerva took his hand that was draped over her and slowly moved it, just a few inches, so that it was covering one of her breasts. She tilted her head, trying to see his face. She felt him shift, and then hum, and then – she grinned – his hand briefly squeezed her breast. Oliver's head popped up off the pillow and he looked down at her. She almost laughed at the apologetic look on his face, but then he took in the situation, noting her hand on top of his and the mischievous twinkle in her eye. He met her eyes again with wide, eager eyes. She grinned at him, and then turned away. She reached behind and grasped the back of his head, urging his mouth towards her neck. He started kissing her there, then licking and nipping. His hand slipped under the front of her robes to grasp her breast without the barrier of clothing. Minerva curved her head back over his shoulder in pleasure, giving him better access to her neck. She rubbed her bum against his growing erection, reaching back to grab his bum to hold him in place. He moaned quietly into her ear as he took her earlobe into his mouth. Minerva gasped softly in pleasure as he sucked on her earlobe and teased it with his teeth.
He started pushing her robes off her shoulders, and Minerva sat up to help him. Together, they pulled off her clothing, but before they discarded her robes at their feet, she retrieved her wand from her pocket and cast quick Silencing Charms on them and the bed. Oliver grinned at this decision. Minerva smiled impishly at him. He pushed her back onto the bed and started ravishing her neck. Minerva closed her eyes and tilted her head back, her mouth open in a silent moan. His hands danced down the sides of her body, raising goosebumps on her skin. She gasped silently when his fingers pressed firmly between her legs through her knickers, and wasted no time in pulling them off, inviting him to touch her properly. And he did. With one hand on one of her breasts, and the other between her legs, he cultivated the pleasure growing slowly within her. His kisses moved on from her neck to her breasts, and then – her mouth opened wide in a silent, surprised gasp – two of his fingers slipped inside of her. Her eyes rolled back in her head as he moved his fingers, massaging her from the inside now. Grinning, Oliver started kissing a trail down her stomach. To Minerva's disappointment, he removed his fingers suddenly. She looked down at him and watched through heavily-lidded eyes as he positioned himself between her legs, and moved his kisses to the most sensitive part of her body. Minerva fisted his bedsheets and arched her back as his fingers reentered her, working together with his tongue to bring her pleasure. She felt herself getting close, and closed her eyes, her mouth wide open in a silent moan. One of her hands reached up to grasp her head while the other gripped the bed.
Minerva's eyes popped open as she felt him retreat. He met her gaze, and she could see in his eyes how aroused he was. His hands came to grasp her hips, and she knew what he was after. She held up a hand, and he stopped immediately. She turned around, rolling onto her knees, and gripped his headboard with one hand. With her other hand, she reached behind her, urging him back to her. She looked over her shoulder at him and they made eye contact; she nodded at him, and he slipped inside her. She reached for his hand and brought it around her front, back between her legs. He obediently massaged her from the front as he took her from behind. Minerva's head hung low, lolling towards the pillow. Her eyes were closed tightly, and silent gasps escaped her throat with each of his thrusts. One of her hands slipped from the headboard and pressed into his pillow, while the other one gripped the headboard tighter. He'd brought her so close during foreplay that it wasn't long before her face was screwed up in pleasure as the waves of her orgasm rocked her body. She let her other hand slip from the headboard and rested her head against the pillow, full of bliss. She barely registered Oliver's rhythm changing as he came.
Oliver gently guided her onto her side as he fell onto the bed beside her. Minerva smiled happily at him and pulled the covers back over them. Oliver beamed at her as he wrapped his arms around her. Minerva pressed her lips together in a thin line warningly, noticing the way his eyes lingered on them. He smiled and leaned forward, instead placing kisses on both of her cheeks, her forehead, and then her nose. Minerva smiled at him, caressing his cheek and nuzzling his nose with hers. When she pulled away, he mouthed, "I love you."
Minerva smiled, tapped his nose, and then held up two fingers. He laughed silently. It was strange to feel it in his chest but not hear it come out of his mouth. Quite content, Minerva rested her head against his chest, perhaps ready for another nap.
"Oliver?"
Oliver and Minerva's heads perked up. It was Donnie. Oliver reached for his wand on his bedside table, but ended up with two. He examined them for a moment before giving Minerva hers and using his own to remove the Silencing Charms she'd cast on them. That done, he replied, "Yeah, mate?"
"What are you doing?"
Oliver and Minerva exchanged a perplexed look. With some uncertainty in his voice, he responded, "Er, cuddling with Minerva."
"Just cuddling?"
"Yes…"
"You're not shagging anymore?"
Minerva's jaw dropped. She didn't know whether to laugh or feel embarrassed; she felt a mixture of both amusement and embarrassment. Oliver, though, did laugh out loud, and said, "No, not shagging."
"Good."
Oliver and Minerva had just enough time to exchange another confused look before they were startled by one of the curtains being thrown open. Minerva screamed and pulled the sheet further up her chest, though she'd already been covered. She had seconds to process Donnie standing there holding a camera; she reached for it, scowling, just as the flash went off. Donnie danced away from her reaching hand, grinning gleefully. In the background, Minerva heard Augusta laughing. Her face red, Minerva shouted in outrage, "DONALD LONGBOTTOM!"
Donnie simply laughed.
"Donnie, mate – what the fuck?" Oliver exclaimed.
"You'll thank me when we're all old and wrinkly and you don't want to shag anymore," he replied loftily.
Minerva scoffed and shook her head.
"How did you know, anyway? We used Silencing Charms," Oliver asked.
Donnie came up and grabbed one of the four posts, shaking it with raised eyebrows, "You stopped it from making sounds, you didn't stop it from moving."
Minerva groaned, her face beet red now, and reached up to shut the curtains. Oliver reached up, putting a staying hand on her arm. Minerva raised her eyebrows at him, but he was looking at Donnie seriously. "Hey, mate?" Donnie's smile faded a little at the unusually serious expression on Oliver's face. "Don't ever do that again."
Donnie nodded solemnly, finally seeming a little cowed. Minerva, feeling gratified, pulled the curtains shut firmly. She sighed heavily as she laid back down beside Oliver. He gave her an exaggerated look of apology: big eyes and a huge grimace. She gave him a small smile. He mouthed, "I'm sorry."
Minerva propped herself up on her elbow and started tracing circles on his bare chest. He searched her face. Finally, she met his eyes again and mouthed, "Thank you." She appreciated the way that he made sure his best friend understood that what he did was not okay and not to be repeated.
Oliver smiled at her, cupped her face in his hand, and pressed a kiss to her forehead.
Aloud, Minerva said quietly, "You know, I'm hungry. Are you?"
"Yeah, actually," he said.
Minerva reached for her clothing at the foot of his bed. Oliver pouted as she started putting it on. She grinned at him and permitted him to squeeze her breasts one last time before covering them up.
Minerva and Oliver had made it to the Great Hall in time for tea, which was only served on the weekends. They piled their plates with little sandwiches, as they both suddenly found themselves ravenous.
"Nice of you two to show your faces!"
Minerva looked up and raised her eyebrows at her best friend. Rolanda grinned brightly at her and took a seat at the Gryffindor table across from her. "Make yourself at home," Minerva remarked in amusement.
"It's the weekend, who cares?" Rolanda said dismissively, reaching for a scone. Richard sat down beside her, across from Oliver, and poured himself a cup of tea, and then one for his girlfriend. As Rolanda buttered her scone, she remarked, "I wanted to congratulate you, Oliver, on knocking Edwards off her broom. Richard and I were debating whether you did it on purpose or not, though. Richard thinks you did. I said you didn't have the balls."
Oliver laughed, "Minerva told me to."
Richard laughed and raised his eyebrows significantly at his girlfriend, "So you did do it on purpose."
Rolanda pointed her butter knife across the table at Oliver and Minerva, "No, no, he wouldn't have done it if Minerva hadn't told him—"
"Oh no, all I said was that he did it intentionally, you didn't specify—"
"What are you, a Slytherin?" Rolanda grumbled. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a Galleon.
As she slid it to him, Richard grinned and said, "I learned from the best." Rolanda rolled her eyes at him, but permitted him to give her a kiss on the lips. Then, as if remembering themselves, they glanced hesitantly towards Oliver and Minerva and mumbled, "Sorry."
Oliver waved them off, "No worries." He glanced over at Minerva with a grin on his face. Minerva met his eyes, pursing her lips to try to smother her own grin.
Rolanda, though, knew Minerva too well for that sort of thing to fool her. Her eyebrows shot up. When Minerva faced forward again, she found a highly amused and suspicious Rolanda Robinson staring her down. She felt her face get warm in spite of herself. Rolanda shook her head in disbelief, but she was grinning. "Merlin's pants, you fucked, didn't you?"
Minerva and Oliver shared a conspiratorial look, their eyes sparkling. That was all the confirmation that Rolanda and Richard needed, and they exchanged amused looks of their own.
"What about your Mandrake leaf?" Rolanda asked.
Minerva shrugged nonchalantly, "We simply can't kiss. We didn't kiss."
"On the lip- well, on the mouth," Oliver clarified with a grin. Rolanda's eyes went wide at his correction and she cackled. Minerva choked on her tea, her face turning red.
Rolanda gave Richard a significant look as her laughter died down. Richard's ears turned red and he said defensively, "Why are you looking at me like that? I…," he glanced uncomfortably across the table at their friends, "…kiss you there."
Rolanda shrugged with a dramatic air and sighed a long-suffering sigh. "You prefer to work with your hands."
"Well, yes, but," Richard floundered, his face growing redder, "Oliver asked Minerva to use a hair-removal—"
"—yes, I know," Rolanda interjected. Oliver grimaced apologetically at Minerva, who thought her face must match her house's primary color at this point. "But I'm half-Veela, and those potions aren't designed to work on my hair."
Richard blinked in surprise, "I didn't even think about that."
"The more you know," Rolanda replied, sipping her tea. She glanced across the table at her best friend and said, "Alright, I'm sorry for embarrassing you, Minerva. You didn't need to hear that. But anyway, we're happy for you. I'm happy to go back to Quidditch, though, if you'd rather talk about that. Hufflepuff surprised me."
"You're telling me," Minerva grumbled before taking a sip of tea.
Rolanda gave her a sympathetic smile, "How's Donnie doing?"
Minerva snorted into her teacup, remembering the last time she'd seen the Keeper. She glanced over at Oliver, who was grimacing at her, though his eyes were sparkling with amusement. Oliver answered, "He wasn't feeling great about his performance, of course, but he spent some time with Augusta and now he's in a better mood."
"'Spent some time?'" Rolanda asked with raised eyebrows.
"I don't think they were – I don't think they ever—" Minerva glanced over at Oliver.
"They don't," he interjected, confirming her suspicions. "Augusta wants to wait."
"I understand that," Minerva replied. "She comes from a very traditional pureblood family."
"Hold on, I'm sorry," Rolanda interjected. "Were they in the room with you when you—?"
The blush that spread across Minerva's cheeks told her all she needed to know. Minerva said defensively, "We used Silencing Charms, but—" Her eyes darted to meet Oliver's.
"They did know what we were doing, we discovered," Oliver finished, having the grace to look a little sheepish. Rolanda threw back her head and laughed.
"I'm sorry," she giggled, wiping away the tears of mirth that had sprung to her eyes. "I said I would stop embarrassing you. So, Hufflepuff."
"Right," Minerva drawled in amusement.
"The weather definitely was a factor, too. Your new Chaser needs more practice time in the rain. But Hufflepuff came out stronger than I expected them to, and I definitely will be keeping that in mind as I prepare my team to play them in May," Rolanda remarked.
"Flatten them for me, will you?" Minerva asked darkly.
Rolanda laughed, "Anything for you, Minerva. Be careful what you wish for, though. You didn't get a good cushion in the Cup rankings today."
Minerva raised her eyebrows, "You're not even on the board. What are your Chasers going to do, score thirty goals? I don't think so."
"Well, I'll certainly not be letting the Quaffle slip past me nineteen times," Rolanda retorted. Minerva grimaced.
"Don't say that around Donnie," Richard warned with a nervous chuckle.
"Oh, I would never!" Rolanda replied quickly, putting a hand over her heart. Richard raised his eyebrows skeptically at her. "No, really. When I know something is a genuine insecurity for someone, if they're my friend, I would never go there."
Richard nodded, accepting this explanation. He turned to Minerva and said, "Anyway, the team shaped up when they needed to and you pulled off a win. We still have a chance for the Cup."
Minerva nodded, "That's how I'm looking at it."
"That's the spirit, Captain," Richard said with a grin. "Bring the Cup home to Gryffindor!"
Rolanda smacked him playfully on the arm, "Excuse me, what about your girlfriend?"
"Slytherin has no chance," he replied matter-of-factly.
Rolanda's jaw dropped in offense. Oliver and Minerva roared with laughter, and Minerva looked over at Oliver as she laughed. Their eyes, sparkling with mirth, met, and Minerva felt a wave of warmth and affection wash over her. It was wonderful to be surrounded by friends.