Rolanda Hooch stumbled into her office. She was shaking with laughter. All her angriness and frustration had faded when she'd seen Minerva's face. Oh god, that just Minerva had stood there, when she'd yelled those words!

"And finally make a move"…

Well, she had, at least, expressed clearly what she'd wanted to say. The bloody man just had to finally make his move and ask the bloody woman to go to the ball with him! The whole does-he-love-me / does-she-love-me thing made Rolanda sick. Come on! Two grownup people acting like teenagers! And besides- acting like a teenager was Rolanda Hooch's privilege, and only hers!

As she sat down at her desk, she smiled at the setting sun.

"They are so stupid, Andy." she then, softly, whispered.

And in the soft breeze of the wind on her face, he, as always, answered her.

"Rolanda," he, that long lost love of hers, murmured.

"they are stupid, yes, but they do love, and therefore help them…"

Rolanda smiled softly, a melancholic expression in her usually so cheerful eyes.

"What do you think I am doing, Andrew?"

With this, she grinned her usual grin again and leant her head on her hands. The look in Minerva's eyes had really been priceless. But Rolanda also knew that she would have to pay for this. Minerva would probably -no, definitely!- yell and transfigure Rolanda into- into something very, *very* bad indeed…

But it had been so priceless.

Yet, when she heard a firm knock on her door, Rolanda knew the time to pay had come.

"Rolanda Hooch, you are the most immature and totally disturbed witch I have ever met!" Minerva yelled on top of her voice. She was towering over her sitting friend, hands on her hips, blushing fiercely and actually looking very frightening.

Rolanda just stared at her feet.

"Don't look into her eyes, don't look into her eyes…" she frantically kept on repeating. "That only makes things worse!"

"How could you-" Minerva kept on raging. "how could you ever have said those words? Make. A. Move. Make a move, for god's sake! Have you gone mad? Have you now finally gone mad, Rolanda Lilianne Hooch? "Make a move"- you told Albus to MAKE A MOVE!"

She was leaning on Rolanda's desk now. Her breath was going very quickly, and the strands of hair come loose from her bun made her look- quite hysterical, indeed. Was this ever-controlled, calm, pulled-together Professor McGonagall?

No.

This was Minerva, that wild, young girl with her blushing cheeks and the wavy mass of dark hair. That girl with the fiercest Scottish temper of all- of all Scotswomen, perhaps…

Yet, Rolanda- who had *lots* of experience with this side of her friend- dared to look up and asked matter-of-factly

"And has he?"

"Has he WHAT, Rolanda?" Minerva asked, eyes still spitting fire.

"Has he made his move? Has he asked you?"

For a moment, Minerva looked as if she was going to explode. But she didn't.

She did something very, very, *very* unexpected instead.

She ran towards Rolanda and flung her arms around her friend.

"Yes," she exclaimed. "yes, he has, Rolanda, and I am so happy!"

Rolanda grinned and patted her friend's back.

Minerva smiled.

"Rolanda, you have again been your very indiscrete, very irresponsible and very insane self, but SO thank you!"

Rolanda smiled.

"I guess I'll have to take that as a compliment… But hey, Min, I just had to make him accompany you to the Ball."

"Why?"

"Because I am already busy preparing your dress."

Minerva grinned, yet then sighed and shook her head.

"Okay, Rolanda, good, you get to make my dress. But listen here. One: no mini skirts. Two: not too revealing. Not revealing at all, actually. Three: no pink, no orange and for heaven's sake, no yellow! Four…"

Rolanda sighed and rolled her eyes.

But Minerva went on… and on… and on… and on…