A/N: To make one thing clear: this basically ignores the book and follows what we have seen or not seen in the movie. And what we saw were Minerva and Albus standing next to each other in the stands when Harry and Diggory sped by, but when Harry fell only a minute later, Minerva was no longer to be seen. Here is my take on where she was.
Disclaimer: Do I look like I own anything here?
Warning: First of all, this story is not to be taken too seriously. Second, this is AD/MM. If the thought of those two in an intimate relationship sickens you – do the Rockford-turn NOW!
All the others: Enjoy!
"The Cat on the Lap"
She had to admit, she was put out. Greatly so. This was not proper behaviour and despite the circumstances, she was not willing to accept it.
Of course there was an explanation, even an understandable reason, but she was still put out. Greatly so.
Actually, the whole day had been on the poor side. Waking up in bed alone was never one of her favorite things, especially on a weekend. Unfortunately, for the duration of the term that was her usual fate. She could count herself lucky if she didn't have to go to bed alone. Though upon further thought, tonight she was just put out enough to prefer it that way.
Nevertheless, she had strongly disliked waking up alone this morning. Even worse, her rooms had been absolutely cold. Not even the fires she had lit in all her fireplaces, seemed to remove the chill that had constantly settled over the castle since the dementors of Azkaban were patrolling about. She foresaw a much larger number of ill students this fall due to the never ending cold.
While proceeding to breakfast, her mood had not improved. His being late had certainly not helped. She was a woman with issues today, and probably not even his showing up at her doorstep wearing nothing more than a rose between his teeth would have improved her mood.
In addition, since the early morning it had been pouring an icy rain.
And to top it off, it was the first Quidditch match of the year: her precious Gryffindors against Hufflepuff, after Slytherin had chickened out. And just like Wood, who had taken to being manic-depressive over the need to win the cup this year, her tension had grown to a dangerous level.
Actually, all she needed now was a burning matchstick to set the explosion of her temper loose.
She went down to the Quidditch pitch among the masses of students, yet feeling utterly alone. He was still elusive. Probably, he would be running late and her trying to save a place next to hers was a futile task. Come to think of it, had he not always been late for Quidditch matches? She could not remember one game in the last two years where they had been seated together. Granted, once the game started, she was usually so caught up in it that she didn't care so much. In addition, one had to keep young Mr. Jordan's commentary in line, and who could do that better than his head of house?
Today however, she really wanted to sit next to him. She had no good feeling about this game. Something was going to go horribly wrong today, she could feel it.
And she just hated this freezing rain. The water repelling charm she had placed on her robes seemed to have no effect whatsoever and therefore she would have liked to cuddle up with him, enjoying his warmth and the effect of his perfect 'umbrella' spell.
However, it seemed not meant to be.
And so, she sat down in the teacher's box. Alone.
And of course, the pillow was still soaking wet, despite several drying charms.
Finally he appeared, just before the game was about to start. He didn't look happy, this much was obvious. Their colleagues eyed him with barely repressed interest, but he didn't volunteer any information. She, however – after years of experience – could see that he was worried. Something about the whole affair didn't sit well with him either.
They had discussed cancelling Quidditch and all after-school activities due to the threat, but finally decided against it. Albus was right; if you refused to live your life and enjoy it, then your enemies had already won.
He sat down in the row behind her, which she noted with some slowly boiling anger inside her mind.
Just before Xiomara Hooch was about to set the Quaffle free, she felt his hands on her shoulders, giving her a reassuring squeeze. Despite her anger, she felt a little bubble of warmth starting to rise from the pit of her stomach. She shook her head inwardly. How was it that a single and simple touch from him could have such an effect on her?
Some minutes later, she was ready to leave. This was ridiculous. As much as she loved this game, keeping this up made no sense. It just endangered the students. By now, two chasers had already hit the ground by accident. Gryffindor's Angelina Johnson and Hufflepuff's Martin Brooks.
With a shudder she saw Oliver Wood being hit by a lightening bolt. Actually, he looked somewhat funny, with his hair standing in all directions.
And then it began.
The snitch had appeared. Messrs. Potter and Diggory were chasing after it.
The two boys were flying directly at the teacher's stand and she felt her heart beating madly. The excitement just drove her from her seat and she quickly rushed to the right wall of the stands.
Just as she reached the wall, the two boys were speeding by, going up and up in their mad race for the Golden Snitch.
She looked after them for a while, craning her neck. When her gaze came down again, she saw his towering figure standing next to her. His worried gaze met hers, and instantly things seemed to be right again. Almost imperceptibly, his hand covered hers in a short, tender gesture.
She shivered, both of the cold and delight. Despite all those many people around them and the heated atmosphere, they seemed to be suddenly the only two people in the world. Their gazes locked and Minerva felt the urge to hurl herself against his frame and meet his lips in a passionate kiss. But of course, they were still in a full stadium and the headmaster and his deputy kissing would be a sure way to take all attention away from the game.
"Are you cold, my dear?" he asked quietly.
She nodded.
He smiled. "I'll warm you then."
At this moment, Mr. Diggory came falling down from the sky, on the other side of the teacher's stands. All eyes were riveted to the drama unfolding, thus missing the headmaster sitting down and patting his lap, while the Transfigurations teacher quickly changed into her animagus form.
By the time young Mr. Diggory had successfully regained control of his broom and was searching for the Snitch again, a striped tabby cat was safely and comfortably settled in the headmaster's lap.
With all of them being too caught up in the game, none of them took notice of Dumbledore gently stroking the cat's side and his quiet talking to her.
The tabby purred in contentment. In Albus' lap it was warm and dry and his stroking hand was just so soft and tender. Yes, finally, for the first time of the day, she felt utterly content.
If only there was no Quidditch. Or better, if young Mr. Potter would finally catch the Snitch, so they could take this to Albus' or her chambers, where he could continue his ministrations on her. Preferably with her in her human form and both sans clothing.
Then it happened.
A shriek ran through the stadium and everybody looked up immediately.
And Albus Dumbledore stood up along with the other teachers to get a better look at the disaster to come.
And the cat on his lap was unceremoniously and quite unexpectedly shoved down.
She must have dozed off already, because she barely managed to land on her four paws when that happened.
Unfortunately, the wooden panels of the teacher's box were slippery and the cat was sliding down between two rows, landing unceremoniously and quite painfully in the mud under the stands.
If a cat could curse, that's what the tabby would have done. As it was, she scrambled to stand on all of her four legs, while trying to shake the water from her fur. Though being only half-successful, she looked like a fur ball afterwards. Her whole stance was that of anger and disgust.
All she wanted to do was switch back into her human form and give a certain person a piece of her mind, when she heard Albus' commanding voice: "Arresto Momentum!"
Scrambling out of the wooden structure, she managed just in time to see Mr. Potter slowly floating down the final few feet. He seemed to be unconscious and incredibly cold. His broom was nowhere in sight.
Without any noise, the boy landed in a puddle of mud, right in the center of the stadium. The whole school held their breath and thus missed Cedric Diggory catching the Golden Snitch. A hush went through the crowd, when just above the stands several dementors appeared.
The cat felt the coldness as well, and craning her neck to see what had caused it, she spotted those foul creatures that used to guard Azkaban.
Not for the first time that day, she felt her anger rise. Weren't those creatures supposed to stay off the grounds? And now they had a full stadium of defenseless students.
Her instincts kicked in and she started off to the center of the field, where the other teachers were already gathering. Changing into her human form while running, she pulled out her wand from the pocket of her robes and even before reaching the group of her colleagues, yelled the spell: "Expecto Patronum!"
Within seconds a silvery beam formed from the tip of her wand and expanded quickly into the shape of a butterfly. She closed ranks with her fellow colleagues and together they tried to build a shield to ward off the dementors from the students. Dumbledore had already taken the task of warding them off young Mr. Potter.
Maybe it was the guard's large number or the many frightened students, but Minerva felt the spell taking much more energy from her than usual. It was not a pleasant feeling.
Finally, they managed to send those foul creatures off.
She felt on the verge of collapse, when she terminated the spell. Looking around, her colleagues didn't seem any better off. And it was still pouring that blasted freezing rain.
The headmaster was already magicking young Mr. Potter onto a floating stretcher, while Madam Pomfrey did a quick examination and then barked out her orders. "Get him to the hospital wing this minute!" Two orderlies took hold of the stretcher and went off.
Turning to the rest of her orderlies, the medi-witch demanded. "Bring the other injured players in as well."
Then she took off at a brisk pace.
The next thing the Transfigurations teacher heard was a muttered: "Blasted game. Couldn't they cancel it?"
Madam Hooch came to the group and sighed. "Diggory wants to repeat the game. Says it was no fair."
Minerva was about to say: 'Well, it wasn't', but was interrupted by the headmaster's voice. "The game was played and won. There will be no repeat performance." Then he turned towards the staff. "I need to arrange things with the dementors again. Please see that all students will return to their dormitories immediately. I also suggest that you obtain a large quantity of chocolate to ward off their chill." With a twinkle he added: "Personally, I'd prefer semi-dark with hazelnuts, but of course, I leave that up to you." Then he was gone.
The Transfiguration teacher looked after him with a mixture of annoyance and understanding. He looked very exhausted already and she didn't think that he was really up to a prolonged discussion with the dementors. On the other hand, nobody ever was. Those foul creatures were too much for any warm feeling person to endure. She sighed. The day had started out poorly and then quickly degraded into horrible.
Young Mr. Potter's lifeless face would be good for several nightmares. And the constant rain for a fully developed cold.
She shivered. The 'water repelling' spell she had cast on herself before leaving the castle had long since worn off and by now she was soaked to the skin. Probably even underneath it.
"No, he caught it fair and square. They won. We lost." Minerva heard the disappointed voice of Oliver Wood. The Gryffindor captain had his fellow team- and housemates around him. They all looked slightly sick and were completely wet.
Minerva remembered her duties instantly. "Gryffindors, return to your dormitories." She called in a commanding voice to make sure everybody heard her. "Follow me this instant. Prefects, make sure nobody stays outside."
The group of students followed their Head of House in a daze. Most of them were still completely shocked by the events. Their teacher could hear more than a few teeth chattering, though she could not determine whether it was because of the cold or the fright. In a herd they quickly marched up to the castle doors.
Once inside the Deputy Headmistress instructed the prefects: "See that everybody gets into the tower safely and quickly. Make sure that all students get into dry clothes and warm up properly. I will send several house elves up with chocolate, right away."
The prefects nodded and shepherded their housemates upstairs. The team members, as well as several 3rd years, stayed behind. "Can we go and see Harry, Professor?" Hermione Granger asked in a small voice. Minerva noticed that the girl was still completely white. The other Gryffindors looked at their teacher with hopeful eyes.
McGonagall sighed. "Very well. You may go to the hospital wing. However, follow Madam Pomfrey's orders and then see that you get warm and dry as well."
The students nodded and went upstairs.
Minerva sighed again, then with a detour through the kitchen – to inform the house elves – went to her own rooms.
Evening had descended over the castle. Due to the seemingly never ending rain, it was already pitch dark. Minerva stood next to the fireplace in the staff room and stared into the flames. What a horrible day. Gryffindor had lost to Hufflepuff and thus their chances of winning the Cup this year had dropped dramatically. Their Seeker was in the Hospital Wing – again – and his broom was beyond repair. Two of their chasers were injured, and their captain in a deep depression. It had cost Minerva a lot of effort to force Wood out of his drowning attempt in the shower. She shook her head; there were just some duties in her position as head of house, that she could very well do without. Spending a prolonged time in the boys' bathrooms was one of them. The atmosphere in the common room had been dark and depressed as well and there was almost nothing she could do about it.
In addition to the lost game, all the children had been horribly frightened by the dementors. Minerva had tried her best to comfort them, but she realized that her attempts had only been half successful. In whatever state of mind Fudge had been when he insisted on the guards patrolling around the school, she was sure it wasn't the right one. Those creatures affected everybody for the worst.
Though she had been lucky not to experience a big effect of their presence during the game, she still felt slightly shaky. And even several hours later, the chill in her bones had not left – despite a hot bubble bath.
She wondered briefly how Albus was faring since his 'talk' with the guards. Under the circumstances, dinner had been served in the house dormitories, leaving the Great Hall empty for the night. Therefore, she had not seen any of her colleagues for several hours. Albus had been nowhere in sight either. For a brief second, she wondered how he felt.
There were many horrible things in his past that he might be forced to relive in the dementors presence. Hopefully, he was alright. His voice when he stopped Harry's fall had radiated so much power that Minerva had felt her hair stand on end. No, wait – not her hair, her fur. Her wet fur.
Her very wet fur on her very hurt right back paw, which accounted for the piercing pain she felt in her right leg upon moving too quickly now. The witch felt her anger rise yet again. Emergency or not, couldn't he have warned her before he dropped her? Courtesy demanded this, didn't it? Common sense demanded it. Had he warned her? No. Had he acknowledged his mistake? No, he hadn't. Had he apologized? Most definitely, he had not.
And after not being in her bed when she had woken up this morning. After not sleeping beside her for the whole bloody week. After barely spending any quality time with her this whole term. After saying for the umpteenth time: "Sorry, Tabby, we need to reschedule."
Well, she had enough. Tabby would not be rescheduled. Tabby was over. Tabby would go to bed alone now. And the bumblebee could have the bathtub – in his own chambers.
"You do realize that I would use the bed if I were in my own chambers?"
The woman shot around, her hand immediately going to her throat. Damn that man, could one never keep anything from a Legilimens? Upon the rash movement, she winced in pain, as her leg protested against the sudden forced shift.
He was by her side in a flash. "Are you hurt?" He asked, his voice filled with concern.
"I am fine, Albus. You don't need to worry." She dismissed his question, trying with all her might to stay angry at him. But it was useless. The tenderness in his eyes and voice, combined with the slight slump of his shoulders which hadn't been there in the morning, just made her heart melt.
"But I do worry, my dear. All I want for you is to be safe and well and happy. It is my most noble deed in life to make sure that you are, most noble queen of my heart." He said those words with such a flourish that she half expected him to conjure a lyre and actually sing it to her.
"Albus really, there is no need to be so flowery." She said exasperatedly.
"But of course, there is. Only the best for my lady."
Minerva's eyebrows went up to her hairline. He could not be serious. Then, with a cold start she realized that he was trying to divert himself from the unpleasant afternoon he had certainly had. The slump of his shoulder was still there. The twinkle in his eyes had returned while he delivered his showy lines, but she could see that it was quite superficial. And for the second time that day the urge to be in his arms became overly strong. Only this time, it was she who needed to be the strong one.
With a twinkle of her own, she said: "Come here then, my Lord."
Instantly they were caught in a tight hug that seemed to become stronger with every second. Minerva could feel the emotions flowing between them. It seemed as if they were taking and giving strength and love. She shivered at that delightful thought.
He drew back for a second. "Are you still cold, my dear?"
She grinned, a delightful thought beginning to take shape in her mind. "A little." Then her grin turned coy. "You could warm me up."
His smile took a hint of understanding. "Would you care for some hot chocolate then?"
The woman snorted. "Hot chocolate my eye. You may convince everybody else that you drink hot chocolate, but not me."
He smirked. "Russian chocolate then."
Her eyebrows rose again. "That's more like it."
"And then maybe a game of chess, my dear?"
Her face was mask of pain. And he grinned. "Then something else maybe?"
She nodded.
His smile turned a little lecherous. "A contact game maybe?"
Another nod.
"In a little more casual atmosphere and dress?"
She nodded the affirmative.
"Without interruptions?"
"Most definitely."
"Very well then."
Minerva was about to start towards the door, when his voice stopped her. "Uhm, my dear, there seems to be only one problem."
She turned with apprehension. "Yes?"
"My bathtub is broken."
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