A/N: Ok, I guess I need to write more before I can expect any reviews, so
here goes.
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the people, places or things in this story. That privilege belongs exclusively to the lovely J. K. Rowling, as I'm sure you're all aware.
Minerva could barely see her plate. Her vision was spinning, nearly knocking her over in its centripetal enthusiasm. She had to get
out of there, now. But how? She wanted to be unobtrusive, now and always to just slip away, but if she lurched across the Great Hall
clutching her head, who wouldn't notice? On the other hand, who would care? She knew she had missed her chance, however, when her
fork clattered horribly onto the stone floor. "Excuse me," she mumbled miserably, and feigning a gesture in the general direction of her
fork, she walked quickly to the door and left the Hall. She had almost made it to the door of her chambers, she was almost home-free.....
"Minerva." Damn. I thought no one can Apparate on the Hogwarts grounds, she speculated idly. "Talk to me. Let me in."
"I'm tired," she said softly, almost inaudibly, but he caught the words before they slipped into silence. "I don't believe you," he said
frankly, and the surprise of his bluntness in place of his usual vague humor made her spin around to face him, an action which
she almost immediately regretted as her vision swam again. She staggered on her feet, and he nimbly slipped an arm around her waist
to steady her as she sank to the floor, for lack of an easier place to go. "Come on," he groaned, pulling her fiercely to her feet
again, "your rooms are right here. Say the password." "Albus.....," she breathed faintly. "Now!" he growled, his eyes flashing steel.
"Lemon drop," she whispered. The doors grated open as Dumbledore fixed her with a comical stare of disbelief,
all his anger born of desperation having evaporated in the thunderbolt of his shock. She stared back before letting out a strangled giggle
at his dumbfounded expression, and soon they were both laughing uncontrollably. Somehow, they managed to reach an armchair
in her living room, and he set her down, wiping his eyes and turning serious again, and at once, as if he had flipped a switch,
the remnants of her laughter vanished and she turned away from him, pressing her damp face into the welcoming cushion.
She could hear him making himself comfortable on the sofa opposite her, and she listened to the sound of his movements, wishing that
he would leave her alone and hoping that he would stay. She lay perfectly still, trying to convince him that she had fallen asleep.
He never moved, but she knew he was watching her, reluctant to force her back into their previous conversation but unwilling
to leave it at that. She finally managed to structure her breaths to mimic sleep, and apparently he was fooled,
because he let out a long sigh and stood, then moved to stand over her. He bent down and pressed a light kiss to the top of her head,
and her heart gave a painful lurch as he whispered: "Whenever you're ready, Minerva" and left her chambers, shutting the door
silently behind him. When she was sure he was gone, she burst into tears.
To Minerva, the next morning was the same as every other. She looked with disgust at the shining surface of her mirror, considering
her drawn cheeks and irritated eyes, until it told her to brush her hair and take a hike. She dressed, went down for breakfast,
became the recipient of one of Snape's haughtiest freezing glares when she snatched the last puff pastry moments before his hand
reached it, and finally, classes began. She was grateful that her Gryffindors were her first class. She didn't think she could deal
with Malfoy smirking at her all morning, trying to catch her slipping up. And while there was Longbottom on the down side, who
would inevitably end up breaking, vanishing or injuring something or someone, there were Potter, Weasley and Granger on
the up side. She felt a warm affection for each of them, especially Potter. He would undoubtedly become the greatest wizard
who ever lived, but he was humble as a dormouse, fiercely loyal and honest, feeling it his obligation to fight for everything he had,
and everything he had was enclosed within the walls of Hogwarts. He frustrated her by justifying necessary rule-breaking
and other generally unlawful behavior, and she knew he thought her hard and uncompromising, but she would lay down her life
for him, and she firmly believed he would do the same, if necessary. Everything he knew to be on the side of the Light
he would protect with his life, and she could only hope that the need for that sacrifice never arose.
Poor boy.....he would suffer when she was gone, whether he knew it or not. But the pain could make him great; it could show him
what a life was worth. She watched him as he entered the classroom, flanked as usual by Weasley and Granger, who were
arguing over Quidditch. She smiled sadly at them; let them have their Quidditch while they can, she thought to herself,
let them have their childhoods. They would be thankful later that they had lived them. Harry caught her expression and wondered
what it meant. He gave her a quizzical look, and her usual stern mask instantly swept over her features. "Sit down, please,"
she said sharply, levelling the square spectacles at them. She had let her guard down too much, Potter had seen.....well, more than
she would have wished. And it was obvious that, like Albus, he was determined to find out the truth. His eyes never left her
in the whole course of the morning, and she almost wished for Malfoy's arrogant countenance in his place. As soon as class
was dismissed, he whispered something to his friends, shot one swift glance in her direction, and shot off down the hall. She knew
exactly where he was going, and she was not looking forward to the aftermath of the discussion to follow in the chamber
behind the stone gargoyle.
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the people, places or things in this story. That privilege belongs exclusively to the lovely J. K. Rowling, as I'm sure you're all aware.
Minerva could barely see her plate. Her vision was spinning, nearly knocking her over in its centripetal enthusiasm. She had to get
out of there, now. But how? She wanted to be unobtrusive, now and always to just slip away, but if she lurched across the Great Hall
clutching her head, who wouldn't notice? On the other hand, who would care? She knew she had missed her chance, however, when her
fork clattered horribly onto the stone floor. "Excuse me," she mumbled miserably, and feigning a gesture in the general direction of her
fork, she walked quickly to the door and left the Hall. She had almost made it to the door of her chambers, she was almost home-free.....
"Minerva." Damn. I thought no one can Apparate on the Hogwarts grounds, she speculated idly. "Talk to me. Let me in."
"I'm tired," she said softly, almost inaudibly, but he caught the words before they slipped into silence. "I don't believe you," he said
frankly, and the surprise of his bluntness in place of his usual vague humor made her spin around to face him, an action which
she almost immediately regretted as her vision swam again. She staggered on her feet, and he nimbly slipped an arm around her waist
to steady her as she sank to the floor, for lack of an easier place to go. "Come on," he groaned, pulling her fiercely to her feet
again, "your rooms are right here. Say the password." "Albus.....," she breathed faintly. "Now!" he growled, his eyes flashing steel.
"Lemon drop," she whispered. The doors grated open as Dumbledore fixed her with a comical stare of disbelief,
all his anger born of desperation having evaporated in the thunderbolt of his shock. She stared back before letting out a strangled giggle
at his dumbfounded expression, and soon they were both laughing uncontrollably. Somehow, they managed to reach an armchair
in her living room, and he set her down, wiping his eyes and turning serious again, and at once, as if he had flipped a switch,
the remnants of her laughter vanished and she turned away from him, pressing her damp face into the welcoming cushion.
She could hear him making himself comfortable on the sofa opposite her, and she listened to the sound of his movements, wishing that
he would leave her alone and hoping that he would stay. She lay perfectly still, trying to convince him that she had fallen asleep.
He never moved, but she knew he was watching her, reluctant to force her back into their previous conversation but unwilling
to leave it at that. She finally managed to structure her breaths to mimic sleep, and apparently he was fooled,
because he let out a long sigh and stood, then moved to stand over her. He bent down and pressed a light kiss to the top of her head,
and her heart gave a painful lurch as he whispered: "Whenever you're ready, Minerva" and left her chambers, shutting the door
silently behind him. When she was sure he was gone, she burst into tears.
To Minerva, the next morning was the same as every other. She looked with disgust at the shining surface of her mirror, considering
her drawn cheeks and irritated eyes, until it told her to brush her hair and take a hike. She dressed, went down for breakfast,
became the recipient of one of Snape's haughtiest freezing glares when she snatched the last puff pastry moments before his hand
reached it, and finally, classes began. She was grateful that her Gryffindors were her first class. She didn't think she could deal
with Malfoy smirking at her all morning, trying to catch her slipping up. And while there was Longbottom on the down side, who
would inevitably end up breaking, vanishing or injuring something or someone, there were Potter, Weasley and Granger on
the up side. She felt a warm affection for each of them, especially Potter. He would undoubtedly become the greatest wizard
who ever lived, but he was humble as a dormouse, fiercely loyal and honest, feeling it his obligation to fight for everything he had,
and everything he had was enclosed within the walls of Hogwarts. He frustrated her by justifying necessary rule-breaking
and other generally unlawful behavior, and she knew he thought her hard and uncompromising, but she would lay down her life
for him, and she firmly believed he would do the same, if necessary. Everything he knew to be on the side of the Light
he would protect with his life, and she could only hope that the need for that sacrifice never arose.
Poor boy.....he would suffer when she was gone, whether he knew it or not. But the pain could make him great; it could show him
what a life was worth. She watched him as he entered the classroom, flanked as usual by Weasley and Granger, who were
arguing over Quidditch. She smiled sadly at them; let them have their Quidditch while they can, she thought to herself,
let them have their childhoods. They would be thankful later that they had lived them. Harry caught her expression and wondered
what it meant. He gave her a quizzical look, and her usual stern mask instantly swept over her features. "Sit down, please,"
she said sharply, levelling the square spectacles at them. She had let her guard down too much, Potter had seen.....well, more than
she would have wished. And it was obvious that, like Albus, he was determined to find out the truth. His eyes never left her
in the whole course of the morning, and she almost wished for Malfoy's arrogant countenance in his place. As soon as class
was dismissed, he whispered something to his friends, shot one swift glance in her direction, and shot off down the hall. She knew
exactly where he was going, and she was not looking forward to the aftermath of the discussion to follow in the chamber
behind the stone gargoyle.