Minerva Matchmaker
Chapter Three: A Plan of Action By: Jestana
"Okay, Min, since you're dragging me into this, you have to promise me something first," Rolanda told her friend as they sat in Minerva's rooms later that day, each with a mug of hot chocolate.
Minerva eyed the other woman warily, wondering what the promise was. "What is it, Rolanda?"
"You have to go to the Halloween Ball with Albus Dumbledore." Rolanda grinned at Minerva, mentally congratulating herself on the brilliance of her idea.
Minerva, meanwhile, felt trapped. The only reason Rolanda knew about Minerva's feelings for the Headmaster was due to one too many bottles of firewhiskey after a birthday party many years before. Minerva had never acted on said feelings because, to be frank, she was scared. She and Albus had been friends for years and she didn't want to risk losing their friendship. She would die if she did. "Must I, Rolanda?"
"Of course you must," Rolanda answered cheekily, still grinning. She was well aware of Minerva's objections to revealing her feelings to Albus, having had one or another fired at her during the intervening years since the aforesaid night of over imbibing.
"Why must I?" Minerva asked, still trying to think of a way out of her predicament.
"Because I say so," Rolanda countered, feeling that the spur-of-the-moment idea was one of her best yet for throwing the Headmaster and Deputy Headmistress together.
"I just need to attend the Ball with Albus, correct?" Minerva asked, thinking quickly.
Rolanda nodded, wondering what Minerva was getting at. "Yes."
"So you're not expecting any declarations of love, are you?" Minerva fired another question at the flight instructor.
Rolanda was on the verge saying yes to that as well when she made herself stop and think for a moment. Minerva was already flustered by the thought of attending the Ball with Albus. Making her confess her feelings would not help in the slightest. Grudgingly, she told her, "No, I'm not. You'd kill me if I asked for that."
Minerva breathed a sigh of relief. "You're right, I would."
"Alright," Rolanda propped her booted feet up on the edge of the low table in front the couch they were sitting on, "you said something about a plan of action?"
"Get your feet off my table," Minerva scolded her friend, a little annoyed.
Rolanda didn't budge. "Got any ideas for getting Mr. Potter and Miss Weasley together?"
Minerva reached out and pushed Rolanda's feet off the table with her own. "None, really, except to somehow convince Miss Weasley to attend the Ball with Mr. Potter."
"Hold up here." Rolanda turned on the couch to face her friend. "What do you mean, 'convince her?' Wouldn't we have to get him to ask her to the Ball first?"
"He beat us to it," Minerva admitted, conjuring her tartan tin of Ginger Newts from her office and offering it to Rolanda. "Have a biscuit?"
Rolanda waved the proffered snacks off. "What, you mean he already asked her?"
Minerva nodded and hastily swallowed the bite she'd already taken of one of the biscuits. "Yes, that's what gave me the idea in the first place."
"So, we need to convince her to attend the Ball with him?" Rolanda asked, clarifying the situation.
Minerva nodded. "That sounds about right."
Rolanda sighed. "Okay, I can't think of anything right off the top of my head, but I'll let you know if I come up with something."
Minerva nodded and vanished their empty mugs. "Thank you, Rolanda."
"You're welcome, Minerva," Rolanda mimicked Minerva's formal tone.
The taller of the two rolled her eyes. "Very funny, Rolanda."
"I thought so," Rolanda rejoined cheekily. "If you'll excuse me, I still have brooms to test."
Minerva watched her friend leave and shook her head. "Mental. Absolutely mental."
"Oh, Minerva," Rolanda stuck her head back in the room, "Don't forget that you need to attend the Ball with Dumbledore."
The door shut before the tartan tin of Ginger Newts hit the spot where Rolanda's head had been.
* * *
After dinner that evening, Albus and Minerva went up to his study for their weekly chess game. A fire crackled cheerfully in the fireplace, sending a pattern of light and shadow dancing over the walls and ceiling. The same pattern of light and shadow played over both their faces and illuminated the chess pieces scattered over the board like footprints. Minerva, usually so focused that she said little except to direct her pieces, was not playing as well as she usually did and Albus was beating her, for once. He noticed, of course, but said nothing. When he won, however, he couldn't remain silent any longer. "Minerva?"
He wasn't quite sure what he expected to see when her smoky blue-gray eyes met his, but certainly not apprehension. "Yes, Albus?"
"Is something wrong, my dear?" he asked, concerned, as she busied herself packing her chess pieces.
"No, no," she answered quickly, perhaps a little too quickly. "Nothing's wrong, Albus."
He gazed at her over the tops of his half-moon spectacles, but she steadfastly avoided his gaze, so it didn't have the usual effect. "Are you sure, my dear?"
She nodded, her eyes on the handsome case she kept the pieces in as she closed it with unnecessary care. "Yes, I'm sure, Albus."
"Then why won't you look at me?" His voice was as mild as ever, but she snapped her head up as if he'd shouted at her.
She held his gaze for a few moments before looking down to set her case on the table beside her chair. "I'm sorry, Albus."
"Sorry for what, my dear?" he asked gently as he set his open case on the chess board for his own pieces to climb into on their own.
"I don't know," she answered with a helpless shrug. "I just felt like I needed to apologize."
"There's nothing to apologize for, Tabby." He noticed that all his pieces were in the case now and carefully closed it. "You've not been yourself this evening, though."
She nodded, slipping her glasses off and polishing them. "I know."
He reached out and covered her hands with his own. "Is there something on your mind?"
She nodded again, freeing one hand to slip her glasses back on her nose. "There is, actually."
"Care to tell me about it?" he offered, squeezing her remaining hand before pulling away.
"Actually, I have a question I need to ask you," she admitted, her eyes flitting around the room before settling on his face.
"Ask away, then." He sat back in his chair and pressed the tips of his long fingers together, gazing at her over the tops of his spectacles once more.
She nodded. "Right, well, there's the Halloween Ball and, er..."
He waited for a moment when her voice trailed off before speaking up. "You want to know if I'd like to escort you?"
"Yes, exactly." She smiled, relieved.
Inwardly, he was both pleased and surprised that she wished for him to escort her, but he let none of that show in his face. "I'd be delighted to escort you, my dear. On one condition?"
"What condition might that be?" she asked, a wary look appearing on her face.
"That I choose our costumes," he told her, already thinking over possibilities.
She considered that for a moment, staring meditatively into the fire. After a long moment, she nodded yet again. "I accept your condition. Nothing too outlandish, though, please."
"I assure you, my dear, you will like your costume," he replied with a smile. She smiled back and, for a few moments, they simply smiled at each other. "Now, was there anything else?"
She shook her head. "No, not that I can think of."
"Very well." He stood and offered his hand to Minerva. "I think it is time we said good night, then."
Her hand slipped easily into his and she rose gracefully to her feet, scooping up her case of chess pieces. "Good night, Albus. Sleep well."
"Good night, my dear," he replied, gazing fondly into her eyes. "Sleep deeply and well."
Their gazes held for a long moment before the fire gave a particularly loud pop, startling them. Without another word, she turned and left Albus' study. Sighing softly, he picked up his case of chess pieces and disappeared into his bedroom.
Chapter Three: A Plan of Action By: Jestana
"Okay, Min, since you're dragging me into this, you have to promise me something first," Rolanda told her friend as they sat in Minerva's rooms later that day, each with a mug of hot chocolate.
Minerva eyed the other woman warily, wondering what the promise was. "What is it, Rolanda?"
"You have to go to the Halloween Ball with Albus Dumbledore." Rolanda grinned at Minerva, mentally congratulating herself on the brilliance of her idea.
Minerva, meanwhile, felt trapped. The only reason Rolanda knew about Minerva's feelings for the Headmaster was due to one too many bottles of firewhiskey after a birthday party many years before. Minerva had never acted on said feelings because, to be frank, she was scared. She and Albus had been friends for years and she didn't want to risk losing their friendship. She would die if she did. "Must I, Rolanda?"
"Of course you must," Rolanda answered cheekily, still grinning. She was well aware of Minerva's objections to revealing her feelings to Albus, having had one or another fired at her during the intervening years since the aforesaid night of over imbibing.
"Why must I?" Minerva asked, still trying to think of a way out of her predicament.
"Because I say so," Rolanda countered, feeling that the spur-of-the-moment idea was one of her best yet for throwing the Headmaster and Deputy Headmistress together.
"I just need to attend the Ball with Albus, correct?" Minerva asked, thinking quickly.
Rolanda nodded, wondering what Minerva was getting at. "Yes."
"So you're not expecting any declarations of love, are you?" Minerva fired another question at the flight instructor.
Rolanda was on the verge saying yes to that as well when she made herself stop and think for a moment. Minerva was already flustered by the thought of attending the Ball with Albus. Making her confess her feelings would not help in the slightest. Grudgingly, she told her, "No, I'm not. You'd kill me if I asked for that."
Minerva breathed a sigh of relief. "You're right, I would."
"Alright," Rolanda propped her booted feet up on the edge of the low table in front the couch they were sitting on, "you said something about a plan of action?"
"Get your feet off my table," Minerva scolded her friend, a little annoyed.
Rolanda didn't budge. "Got any ideas for getting Mr. Potter and Miss Weasley together?"
Minerva reached out and pushed Rolanda's feet off the table with her own. "None, really, except to somehow convince Miss Weasley to attend the Ball with Mr. Potter."
"Hold up here." Rolanda turned on the couch to face her friend. "What do you mean, 'convince her?' Wouldn't we have to get him to ask her to the Ball first?"
"He beat us to it," Minerva admitted, conjuring her tartan tin of Ginger Newts from her office and offering it to Rolanda. "Have a biscuit?"
Rolanda waved the proffered snacks off. "What, you mean he already asked her?"
Minerva nodded and hastily swallowed the bite she'd already taken of one of the biscuits. "Yes, that's what gave me the idea in the first place."
"So, we need to convince her to attend the Ball with him?" Rolanda asked, clarifying the situation.
Minerva nodded. "That sounds about right."
Rolanda sighed. "Okay, I can't think of anything right off the top of my head, but I'll let you know if I come up with something."
Minerva nodded and vanished their empty mugs. "Thank you, Rolanda."
"You're welcome, Minerva," Rolanda mimicked Minerva's formal tone.
The taller of the two rolled her eyes. "Very funny, Rolanda."
"I thought so," Rolanda rejoined cheekily. "If you'll excuse me, I still have brooms to test."
Minerva watched her friend leave and shook her head. "Mental. Absolutely mental."
"Oh, Minerva," Rolanda stuck her head back in the room, "Don't forget that you need to attend the Ball with Dumbledore."
The door shut before the tartan tin of Ginger Newts hit the spot where Rolanda's head had been.
* * *
After dinner that evening, Albus and Minerva went up to his study for their weekly chess game. A fire crackled cheerfully in the fireplace, sending a pattern of light and shadow dancing over the walls and ceiling. The same pattern of light and shadow played over both their faces and illuminated the chess pieces scattered over the board like footprints. Minerva, usually so focused that she said little except to direct her pieces, was not playing as well as she usually did and Albus was beating her, for once. He noticed, of course, but said nothing. When he won, however, he couldn't remain silent any longer. "Minerva?"
He wasn't quite sure what he expected to see when her smoky blue-gray eyes met his, but certainly not apprehension. "Yes, Albus?"
"Is something wrong, my dear?" he asked, concerned, as she busied herself packing her chess pieces.
"No, no," she answered quickly, perhaps a little too quickly. "Nothing's wrong, Albus."
He gazed at her over the tops of his half-moon spectacles, but she steadfastly avoided his gaze, so it didn't have the usual effect. "Are you sure, my dear?"
She nodded, her eyes on the handsome case she kept the pieces in as she closed it with unnecessary care. "Yes, I'm sure, Albus."
"Then why won't you look at me?" His voice was as mild as ever, but she snapped her head up as if he'd shouted at her.
She held his gaze for a few moments before looking down to set her case on the table beside her chair. "I'm sorry, Albus."
"Sorry for what, my dear?" he asked gently as he set his open case on the chess board for his own pieces to climb into on their own.
"I don't know," she answered with a helpless shrug. "I just felt like I needed to apologize."
"There's nothing to apologize for, Tabby." He noticed that all his pieces were in the case now and carefully closed it. "You've not been yourself this evening, though."
She nodded, slipping her glasses off and polishing them. "I know."
He reached out and covered her hands with his own. "Is there something on your mind?"
She nodded again, freeing one hand to slip her glasses back on her nose. "There is, actually."
"Care to tell me about it?" he offered, squeezing her remaining hand before pulling away.
"Actually, I have a question I need to ask you," she admitted, her eyes flitting around the room before settling on his face.
"Ask away, then." He sat back in his chair and pressed the tips of his long fingers together, gazing at her over the tops of his spectacles once more.
She nodded. "Right, well, there's the Halloween Ball and, er..."
He waited for a moment when her voice trailed off before speaking up. "You want to know if I'd like to escort you?"
"Yes, exactly." She smiled, relieved.
Inwardly, he was both pleased and surprised that she wished for him to escort her, but he let none of that show in his face. "I'd be delighted to escort you, my dear. On one condition?"
"What condition might that be?" she asked, a wary look appearing on her face.
"That I choose our costumes," he told her, already thinking over possibilities.
She considered that for a moment, staring meditatively into the fire. After a long moment, she nodded yet again. "I accept your condition. Nothing too outlandish, though, please."
"I assure you, my dear, you will like your costume," he replied with a smile. She smiled back and, for a few moments, they simply smiled at each other. "Now, was there anything else?"
She shook her head. "No, not that I can think of."
"Very well." He stood and offered his hand to Minerva. "I think it is time we said good night, then."
Her hand slipped easily into his and she rose gracefully to her feet, scooping up her case of chess pieces. "Good night, Albus. Sleep well."
"Good night, my dear," he replied, gazing fondly into her eyes. "Sleep deeply and well."
Their gazes held for a long moment before the fire gave a particularly loud pop, startling them. Without another word, she turned and left Albus' study. Sighing softly, he picked up his case of chess pieces and disappeared into his bedroom.