It had been many years since Albus had seen a Hogwarts quidditch game go on for so long. Dusk was beginning to fall and the entire school—well quite nearly the entire school—was still out at the quidditch pitch watching the final match of the year: Gryffindor versus Ravenclaw. They were the top two teams in the running for the Quidditch Cup. Whoever won this match, won the cup.

Currently, Ravenclaw was in the lead and though she tried to hide it Albus could see that Minerva was nervous about the match's outcome. She was still quite crazy about quidditch and a Gryffindor loss would a terrible loss as far as she was concerned. It was just as important to her now as it had been when she was on the team herself—and it was still a very clear memory to him exactly how important it had been to her then.

He had to admit, however, as he watched a Gryffindor chaser steal the quaffle right out from under Ravenclaw's nose, he was quite interested in seeing Gryffindor win as well. He was certain he hid it better than dear Minerva did but one's house loyalties died hard. He could not cheer for Gryffindor publically anymore, as Hogwarts' headmaster, but inwardly he would still be terribly disappointed to see them lose. They were so close to the Cup. They were tied with Ravenclaw in the running.

Minerva made a low groan as the Ravenclaw keeper made a spectacular save. Ravenclaw was still ahead seventy to thirty. Her students were losing. What this match would really come down to was who caught the snitch—and the winged golden orb had been quite elusive all game.

The Ravenclaw keeper sent the quaffle whizzing past two of the Gryffindor chasers and into the hands of one of her own chasers. He tucked the red ball securely under his arm and turned quickly to speed towards Gryffindor's goalposts. Not ten seconds later, however, he found himself swerving swiftly to avoid a bludger sent straight into his path, courtesy of Mark Weasley. The quaffle slipped from his grasp and one of Gryffindor's own chasers, Jack Prewitt, swept it up and began moving it back across the field.

A few nice, neat tosses between Gryffindor chasers followed, but the Ravenclaws, not to be outdone, soon plucked the ball away and began passing it down the field in the opposite direction yet again.

The entire game had been proceeding like this. Rarely did anyone get the chance to try for a goal and yet more rarely was one made. They'd all been sitting in stands by the quidditch pitch for hours, soaking in the warm spring weather.

A hum began to run through the crowd. People began to stand. It seemed that the snitch had been spotted . . .

But not two minutes later everyone was again in their seats. The Ravenclaw seeker had just been trying to see if he could fool the Gryffindor seeker. The snitch was still hiding somewhere around the pitch, waiting to be spotted and caught.

Minerva and Albus, took their seats at nearly the same times. He, near the top of the stands in the seat with the best view, and she near the student commentator, whom she'd been making sure stayed in line all game. Minerva had a particular hatred of biased commentators, no matter whose side they were on. It violated her principles. It was her opinion that a person should strive to be as fair as possible—something she held to quite closely.

Ravenclaw chasers took her penalty shots—all of which were blocked by Gryffindor's keeper—Minerva gave him a silent pat on the back. It may have been a slightly illegal move, but the benefits had outweighed the risks and it was her opinion that rules could be bent a little for quidditch. She certainly done so, on occasion, and would likely do so again at more than one point in time.

Even as the second shot was being blocked, however, the Gryffindor seeker, Eros Markman, went into a sharp dive. He dropped downward like a rock, cutting through the air easily, just the way his father, Minerva's old friend Hermes had. Having seen him play in a number of practices and in two games now, Minerva had determined that he was not quite the seeker his father had been, but that he was quite talented. The fact that he had spotted the snitch first gave her high, but cautious, hopes of a Gryffindor win.

As though it sensed that it had been spotted, the snitch made a quick left and moved quickly away from the two seekers chasing it. Up, down, left, right, and every which way it flew, trying desperately to escape the hands reaching for it. It circled the Ravenclaw goalposts quickly and both Eros and Ravenclaw's seeker skimmed near to the tall post in their pursuit of it. It took a sharp dive then darted quickly towards the stands, flying as fast as it could over the heads of the breathless crowd.

Albus watched intently as it pulled away from the stands and back over the field. The field was growing darker by the second. The worry that the snitch might disappear into the darkness and the match drag on for hours more was a very real one. He hoped the snitch did not get away, though not as much as he hoped for a Gryffindor victory. He would rather see the snitch slip into the darkness.

And so would Minerva, he was certain.

The snitch nearly grazed Roger Weasley's ear as it passed by him and it was evident to those watching that it was a struggle to him not to simply catch the snitch himself, but the penalty from doing that would lose them the game and so he did not.

On nothing better than instinct, in that moment Eros made a sharp swerve, putting himself but three feet in front of Minerva and the game's commentator as well as into the direct path of the snitch. The snitch swerved to get away, but Eros caught it anyway and held it up to the crowd in victory as its silvery wings still struggled against his fingers.

It was a marvelous win for Gryffindor and Albus could see a large smile on Minerva's face because of it. He wasn't sure which occurrence he was more pleased about. Minerva did not often smile like that.

/E/E/E/E/E/

"Minerva, do you intend to let them celebrate all night?"

"Yes, I do," she answered, sipping on the hot chocolate he'd convinced her to indulge in for Gryffindor's win. "Classes are not in session tomorrow, and they've earned it. They can sleep tomorrow."

Albus looked thoughtful and Minerva quirked an eyebrow at him.

"What is it? You cannot possibly be surprised that I would let them."

"Not at all," he answered. "I seem to remember that you used to indulge in such celebrations yourself as a student. It's not unsurprising that your opinion on the matter would not have changed."

"Then what is it?" she asked, feeling slightly annoyed that he had not just simply answered the question the first time.

"How would you feel about engaging in an all night celebration yourself?"

"I'm sorry?" she asked, a little bit surprised. Her mind reeled with the implications of that statement and wondered if her lovesick imagination had just stuck them there of its own accord. He could not possibly be asking her what she thought he was.

"Well, there aren't many of us, but there are more than a few of us old Gryffindors in this school. What would you say to a gathering down at Rosmerta's pub in celebration?"

There, she'd been right. He'd not been making any implications that leaned toward the romantic. She was just being silly. Why did love always make people silly—make them think and act illogically?

She kept her composure, however, and none of her twinge of disappointment so much as flickered across her face. "Are you certain it's wise for the Headmaster to be celebrating a Gryffindor victory? It could be seen as biased."

"What's biased about an outing with friends?" Albus asked and his eyes were twinkling mischievously. "And even if it were biased, it's late. I doubt anyone will see us and I'm sure we all know how to keep from mentioning such things to others."

Minerva's eyebrows were raised disapprovingly. "That's not exactly honest."

"Nor is it dishonest, Minerva. Besides, who will ever know to care?"

"I will," she answered, and her lips thinned perceptibly. "Do you take this attitude about all things?"

"Not at all," he answered. "But I do think that in some cases rules are meant to be bent a little."

"And what of broken?"

"That too."

She glared at him in disapproval. "I imagine you were a very difficult child, Albus."

"I was an angel compared to Aberforth."

"I imagine that was because he was simply doing what his older brother directed him to do, or am I off the mark?"

"He would embellish such instructions as well."

Minerva gave a curt nod. "I see."

"So are you coming?"

"Does it matter if I do?"

Minerva was more than a little surprised when Albus actually looked hurt by what she'd said. "Of course. Where's the point of celebrating our old House's win without you? It would be incomplete."

Touched, Minerva actually found herself leaning towards going. She did not like the idea of risking Albus' reputation as Headmaster, however. It violated her sense of rules and duty.

Oh, just go, Minerva, she thought to herself. You're letting your students bend a few rules tonight. What's the harm if you go outside what should strictly be considered proper yourself?

"You're a bad influence on me," she answered, scowling at him as she grabbed her cloak from its stand near the doorway.

"Excellent. Come, the others are already waiting for us."

That bastard knew I would agree all along, she thought sourly as he dragged her out of her chambers and down to the entrance hall. The nerve of him!

She could not deny, however, that she was glad she had gone.