Scene Six: Suprises and Sweetness
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"Tom Riddle? Tom- Riddle? Albus, please don't tell me…"
She fell down in a chair as she saw her husband calmly nod.
"Yes, my dear, it is that Riddle. I am sorry, but…"
"Why for God's sake did you hire him?"
Albus noted the already well-known fierce Scottish gaze in her eyes, and sighed.
"Minerva, please try to understand. I know you never liked him, but Hogwarts did need a Defense Against the Dark Arts Teacher, and…"
Minerva rolled her eyes.
"Oh surely," she mut tered through her clenched teeth.
"Surely he knows everything about the Dark Arts." but Albus shook his head and semi-sternly interrupted her.
"Now come on, Minerva, we've never had troubles with Riddle. I know you never liked him and he was not my favourite either, but really, he was highly intelligent and he'll make a great DADA teacher."
Minerva groaned and hid her face in a pillow, falling down on the bed again.
"I know, I know, I never said anything against his integrity… but Albus, he really was one arrogant prat! Well…" she added, as she noticed his determined expression.
"I think I'll have to learn to live with it, then. But Albus…"
When she looked up again, all irritation had vanished of her face- she really was one remarkable woman!- and all left was a little, impish smile, playing around her lips as she bowed over her husband.
"Albus?"
"Yes, my dear?"
"If Tom Riddle wasn't your favourite… who was, then?"
Albus broadly grinned as he read the twinkles in her usually so calm, stern eyes. As if she did not know.
He pretended to be thinking and then, pulling her on top of him, he smiled again.
"That must have been a certain Miss McGonagall, I suppose, my dear. Have you ever met her, perhaps?"
Minerva smiled a now sweet smile and softly kissed his lips.
"I recall I did, my lover".
They both enrolled in some quite- enjoyable moments, but as Minerva felt herself shiver as he softly stroked her back, she knew she had to pull back again, or she would never found it within her to leave… With a playful "warning finger", she shook her head.
"The day after tomorrow, my love. The day after tomorrow… And besides, some… activities can render one rather hungry… I need my breakfast."
Albus theatrically sighed and folded his arms under his head, eyeing his wife with eyes that, despite all grins and sighs, showed exactly the tender devotion he felt for her.
"My dear, you are lucky if I don't eat you at breakfast."
"I am serious!" he protested as she laughed out loud. "You look delicious."
Minerva raised her eyebrow in a semi-stern gesture and, in a vain attempt to look sincerely cross, put her hands on her hips in addition.
"I hardly can look "delicious", Mr. Dumbledore, since my hair is one, big tangled mess and my skin is not exactly any better, I guess."
But "Mr. Dumbledore" just smiled and reached out his hand to playfully pull one of her loosely dangling tresses.
"You look ravishing, Mrs. Dumbledore, and you very, very well know it indeed!"
Minerva could not help but blushed as she heard herself be address by the unfamiliar, yet wonderful title her marriage had earned her. Mrs. Dumbledore. And that mere "Mrs.", followed by the name of the man she adored with every fibre of her body, meant way more to her than a "Countess", "Duchess", or even "Queen" could ever do.
But ever-professional, Minerva McGonagall oppressed her sudden urge to just give in and stay with him, and she turned towards the bathroom door. There, she just made one more gesture towards the man in the bed.
She stuck out her tongue.
And she left.
And Albus Dumbledore realized for the thousandth time how very much he loved his wife.
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"Tom Riddle? Tom- Riddle? Albus, please don't tell me…"
She fell down in a chair as she saw her husband calmly nod.
"Yes, my dear, it is that Riddle. I am sorry, but…"
"Why for God's sake did you hire him?"
Albus noted the already well-known fierce Scottish gaze in her eyes, and sighed.
"Minerva, please try to understand. I know you never liked him, but Hogwarts did need a Defense Against the Dark Arts Teacher, and…"
Minerva rolled her eyes.
"Oh surely," she mut tered through her clenched teeth.
"Surely he knows everything about the Dark Arts." but Albus shook his head and semi-sternly interrupted her.
"Now come on, Minerva, we've never had troubles with Riddle. I know you never liked him and he was not my favourite either, but really, he was highly intelligent and he'll make a great DADA teacher."
Minerva groaned and hid her face in a pillow, falling down on the bed again.
"I know, I know, I never said anything against his integrity… but Albus, he really was one arrogant prat! Well…" she added, as she noticed his determined expression.
"I think I'll have to learn to live with it, then. But Albus…"
When she looked up again, all irritation had vanished of her face- she really was one remarkable woman!- and all left was a little, impish smile, playing around her lips as she bowed over her husband.
"Albus?"
"Yes, my dear?"
"If Tom Riddle wasn't your favourite… who was, then?"
Albus broadly grinned as he read the twinkles in her usually so calm, stern eyes. As if she did not know.
He pretended to be thinking and then, pulling her on top of him, he smiled again.
"That must have been a certain Miss McGonagall, I suppose, my dear. Have you ever met her, perhaps?"
Minerva smiled a now sweet smile and softly kissed his lips.
"I recall I did, my lover".
They both enrolled in some quite- enjoyable moments, but as Minerva felt herself shiver as he softly stroked her back, she knew she had to pull back again, or she would never found it within her to leave… With a playful "warning finger", she shook her head.
"The day after tomorrow, my love. The day after tomorrow… And besides, some… activities can render one rather hungry… I need my breakfast."
Albus theatrically sighed and folded his arms under his head, eyeing his wife with eyes that, despite all grins and sighs, showed exactly the tender devotion he felt for her.
"My dear, you are lucky if I don't eat you at breakfast."
"I am serious!" he protested as she laughed out loud. "You look delicious."
Minerva raised her eyebrow in a semi-stern gesture and, in a vain attempt to look sincerely cross, put her hands on her hips in addition.
"I hardly can look "delicious", Mr. Dumbledore, since my hair is one, big tangled mess and my skin is not exactly any better, I guess."
But "Mr. Dumbledore" just smiled and reached out his hand to playfully pull one of her loosely dangling tresses.
"You look ravishing, Mrs. Dumbledore, and you very, very well know it indeed!"
Minerva could not help but blushed as she heard herself be address by the unfamiliar, yet wonderful title her marriage had earned her. Mrs. Dumbledore. And that mere "Mrs.", followed by the name of the man she adored with every fibre of her body, meant way more to her than a "Countess", "Duchess", or even "Queen" could ever do.
But ever-professional, Minerva McGonagall oppressed her sudden urge to just give in and stay with him, and she turned towards the bathroom door. There, she just made one more gesture towards the man in the bed.
She stuck out her tongue.
And she left.
And Albus Dumbledore realized for the thousandth time how very much he loved his wife.