A/N - See, much quicker on the update! Moving ahead another of couple weeks in story time. I think I mention that in chapter, but just so it's specific, I'll give an actual date. As always, read, review, and most importantly - Enjoy!
October 6
Minerva had entirely managed to forget about the incident by the lake, or at least, had managed to convince herself not to think about the incident. Either way, she was able to smile cheerfully and go on about 5th year without the bizarre worry that she had hurt Alastor Moody's feelings. Until of course, one night a few weeks later, when she happened to be working in the library, wherein she decided that fate clearly had a cruel sense of humor.
Professor Binns had assigned an essay on the Faerie Revolts of the 700s and expected at least a roll and a half of parchment on the subject. Having come to the conclusion that teachers assigned this sort of work purely to be some sort of punishment, Minerva had spent upwards of an hour attempting to work in the Gryffindor common room. Unfortunately, a rather large number of third years were gathered around the fireplace for some sort of mass game of Exploding Snap, not especially mindful of fifth years who needed to study. Between the bangs and shouts and laughter, Minerva was resisting a powerful urge to hex the nearest fellow, a thin boy with tawny hair and round glasses. She remembered just in time that he was in fact on the Quidditch team, and instead tucked her supplies into her bag and vacated the table entirely. Alastor and Tiberius had abandoned their homework some time ago, choosing instead to join a group of boys gathered around a table further from the fireplace. Most of the boys seemed to be older students, sixth and seventh years Minerva only recognized in passing. Static warred with spoken word as one of the boys tinkered with a Wireless set, determined to pick up a clearer broadcast. The war had taken over the news, and Alastor and Tiberius had taken to listening religiously. Both of them looked unusually grave, and Minerva guessed that whatever some new battle or death or capture was being reported. War was an awful thing, and she would be glad when the mess was over. She left the boys to their listening and instead found Augusta Prewett, who was seated in an armchair as far as possible from the crowd around the fire. Augusta proved all too happy to abandon the common room in favor of the quiet sanctuary of the library.
The library, however, had turned out to be anything but a sanctuary. Minerva and Augusta had settled at a table near the back, hidden behind a rickety set of shelves that constantly looked to be in danger of toppling. From somewhere on the other side of the shelves streamed the constant giggle and chatter of girls who apparently had no better place to gossip. Not that Minerva minded gossip in general, really, and on any other occasion she might have abandoned Binns' essay in order to join in the conversation. She had even considered the idea once or twice, in fact, whenever she struck a particularly tedious section of writing.
"Hem, hem," the high pitched, breathy voice cut across the conversation, silencing the girls entirely, and Minerva very nearly put her quill straight through the parchment in shock.
"Oh Merlin," Minerva muttered, eyes squeezed shut. "Please tell me I'm hearing things."
"Unfortunately not," Augusta sighed. Apparently she had knocked over her inkwell, staining the top of her own essay as well as a rather large spot on the table. "Should we leave?"
Minerva shook her head firmly, returning her attention very pointedly to her essay as Augusta sighed again and set about trying to clean up the mess left by the ink.
"I'm not leaving just because she's here. I've got work to do."
Very little work was in fact accomplished, however, because very soon the conversation on the opposite side of the shelves shifted to more relevant gossip and Minerva could not help but listen.
"You know, I heard that Richard Nott fancies Isabel," one girl declared primly. Apparently Isabel was within the circle of girls in the library, because she squealed exagerratedly. Minerva rolled her eyes and resisted an urge to throw a book in their general direction.
The revolts resulted due to centuries of unrest....
"I wish Tiberius Kirk wasn't a Gryffindor. He's very handsome."
Scowling over her shoulder, Minerva very nearly overturned her own inkwell. If Tiberius could hear these girls, he'd probably jinx away their ability to giggle.
Faeries had long been oppressed by witches and wizards who considered...
"You'd be better off fancying Duncan Longbottom anyway. I mean, they're both purebloods, but Duncan's got more money. Makes up for his looks, you know."
This time Augusta gasped in shock, frowning and covering her mouth abruptly. Fortunately, laughter and agreement drowned out the noise. Augusta had decided at the end of fourth year that she fancied Duncan but had thus far made no further efforts or statements on the subject. Minerva liked to think this was because the normally indomitable Augusta had fallen prey to nerves and butterflies and blushing shyness. However, when safely hidden behind rickety shelves, Augusta seemed quite willing to condemn anyone who spoke ill of Duncan.
"They must all be Slytherins!"
"Seems like it," Minerva agreed, turning her attention back to the essay in an effort to tune out the chatter.
What began as an ordinary workers' strike soon grew into a...
"Did you see what Amelia Bones was wearing on the train? So very Muggle."
full revolt when Aurors attempted to break up the protests...
"I can't believe she's really a Pureblood. Certainly doesn't act like it."
and someone inadvertently fired a Stunning Spell into the...
"Hem, hem."
The words grated like nails on a chalkboard, and Minerva halted mid-sentence despite her best efforts. The breathy voice carried on, after of course waiting to ensure that full attention had been gained.
"You know, I heard that Alastor Moody fancies Amelia. He asked her to go to the first Hogsmeade weekend with him," Dolores Umbridge said slowly. Minerva's hand tightened around her quill reflexively, a furious feeling bolting through her. The idea was absurd, really, because Alastor would have told her if he fancied anyone. They were best friends, after all. And best friends were supposed to talk about things like who fancied who. She had told him in third year when she developed a crush on Charlus Potter. Of course, when Minerva really thought about such conversations, Alastor had never once mentioned anyone he might fancy. Suddenly she was angry and hurt and not entirely sure why. Dolores simply could not be right.
"Moody, the Quidditch player? I don't think even Amelia Bones would go with him."
Minerva was on her feet in an instant, shoving her chair away from the table and tossing down her quill before Augusta could stop her. Not that Augusta really seemed like she planned to do much intervening anyway, given the cheery "Let them have it!"
Rounding the corner into the next aisle, Minerva was rather unsurprised to find six giggling girls, all in Slytherin uniforms. At the nearest end of the table sat Dolores Umbridge, garishly pink bow perched atop her curls.
"Minerva. Care to join us?"
The invitation came from the general direction of the girls at the opposite end of the table. Minerva, however, had only one purpose in mind.
"Alastor does not fancy Amelia."
"Of course he does, dear," Dolores' eyes widened, the only thing betraying her surprise. "Dear" very nearly sent Minerva over the edge, fists clenching at her side.
"He does not!"
The girls were all giggling again, only this time they were almost certainly giggling at her. Dolores remained in her seat, still entirely composed, and Minerva was suddenly aware that her own face had grown quite red.
"If I may ask, why on earth does it matter?" Dolores asked slowly, grinning darkly and clearly enjoying this far too much. Minerva faltered and hesitated, face growing even more red as she pushed her glasses back into place and struggled for words. Her mind seemed utterly incapable of providing an answer, much to the amusement of Dolores and the other Slytherins. Suddenly a hand closed over her shoulder, and Minerva found Augusta standing just behind her, two school bags slung over her shoulder and forced smile on her face.
"Good evening everyone, lovely to see you," Augusta said brightly, waving with her free hand. "I do believe we'll be going now. Enjoy your conversation."
Augusta tugged quite firmly, already moving before the Slytherins had time to respond, and Minerva stumbled away, too surprised to protest. Laughter and chatter echoed on behind them, taunting and sharp and Minerva felt further color rush to her face.
"I don't need you to rescue me," she jerked her arm away from Augusta with a scowl. Seeming to have expected this, Augusta merely arched an eyebrow and offered Minerva her school bag.
"Firstly, I wasn't just there to rescue you. In about five minutes they're all going to get a sudden urge to dance on the tables. Secondly, Dolores was just trying to get you angry. And I'd say she succeeded quite well."
"Well. She was wrong!" Minerva insisted, wincing at her volume and hurrying for the door. "Did you really hex them?"
"Of course I did," Augusta said plainly, waving and forcing another smile for Madam Pince, the new librarian, "And I'd rather be out of here before anything happens."
Once they were safely in the hall and the door safely closed, Minerva pushed Augusta's prank to the back of her mind and crossed her arms sullenly, resisting an urge to stomp her foot. "She was wrong."
"Of course she was. I know that and you know that and anyone else who matters knows that," Augusta shrugged, already walking away. As much as Augusta seemed unwilling to discuss the matter, Minerva was still irrationally angry and determined to have an argument with someone.
"Then why did you have to jump in?" Minerva persisted, and taking her frustration out on her conveniently located friend.
"Because we're fifth years and you're a prefect and you were arguing with them like we were back in primary school," Augusta stated. She never turned around as she climbed the stairs, but Minerva had no trouble picturing the matter of fact look on her face. Suddenly all the anger and foul temper washed away, replaced by a very powerful sense of embarrassment. Minerva realized she had made a fool of herself in front of Dolores Umbridge and the little gang of giggling Slytherins. She might never hear the end of this.
"I'm sorry."
"You haven't got to apologize to me. Thank me, perhaps, for hexing them and getting you out of there before you did anything too incredibly uncalled for," Augusta cast a quick smile over her shoulder as she reached the top of the landing, pausing in front of the portrait. "Why did it matter, if you don't mind my asking."
"Hmm?" Panic flared now as Augusta asked the one question Minerva was still thoroughly unprepared to answer. "Oh well...he's my friend, you know, and I didn't want...didn't want them spreading rumors...about him."
The answer sounded flimsy at best, but Augusta merely nodded and gave no indication that she intended to disagree. Personally Minerva was sincerely hoping that someone would answer the question for her, because she was thoroughly baffled as to why the thought of Alastor with Amelia Bones made her quite so upset. Augusta gave the password to the Fat Lady and the door swung inward, ushering them inside.
The third years had cleared out, leaving only a few seventh years working on charts for Divination and Tiberius and Alastor, who had claimed seats on the sofa nearest the fire. Tiberius saw her first and waved enthusiastically.
"There you are! We're up here struggling through this essay for Binns and you're nowhere ta be found."
"Sorry," Minerva grinned and pushed the incident in the library to the back of her mind. She tumbled into the seat beside Alastor, waving goodnight to Augusta, who had already departed for the stairs. She almost missed the trapped look that passed over Alastor's face. "I've got a question for you Al."
"Oooh, she's got a question, Al," Tiberius adopted a solemn expression and winked at Minerva. This earned him a swift punch to the shoulder, although Alastor was still at least grinning. Tiberius did not dare use the nickname himself, but was certainly not above poking fun at Alastor.
"And what would you like to ask me?" Alastor turned his attention back to Minerva, dark eyes sparkling. Two tries were required before Minerva could manage words.
"Are you going with Amelia Bones to Hogsmeade?"
Alastor clearly had not been expecting that particular question, as he looked positively stunned. Tiberius' grin widened, if anything, as Alastor slowly recovered and managed to respond.
"Not that I'm aware of. Why?"
For some reason this answer made Minerva feel significantly better, but she was not finished yet.
"Do you fancy her?"
"I-what? N-no!" Alastor shook his head with great enthusiasm. "Why?"
"No reason," Minerva shrugged. Alastor looked from her to Tiberius, plainly trying to determine if some sort of joke was being played on him. Tiberius merely laughed and shrugged.
"Donnae look at me, mate. I've no idea what she's on about."
"I was just wondering. Some people were talking about it," Minerva explained hurriedly, trying to be as nonchalant about the matter as possible. Alastor, however, had narrowed his eyes, and Tiberius looked quite intrigued.
"What people?" Alastor asked, mouth pressed into a frown. Tiberius laughed again and clapped his friend on the shoulder.
"What's it matter mate? You ought to be happy - your love life is finally interesting enough for everyone to talk about."
While Tiberius found this prospect greatly amusing, Alastor himself actually looked faintly ill. Minerva was beginning to be quite sorry she had brought the matter up at all.
"Because there's so much to talk about," Alastor rolled his eyes, voice dripping sarcasm. Tiberius smiled and shook his head, tugging a roll of parchment free from a pile on the table.
"Minerva, would you care to look at my essay? I cannae for the life of me figure out what to do here in this middle part," Tiberius passed her the parchment, easily changing the subject, and Minerva was only too happy to oblige. She scanned over the messy scrawl for awhile, occasionally offering one suggestion or another. Tiberius gave several half-hearted agreements, but he had opened up his Charms book and finally told her she could change whatever she wanted. For awhile Alastor looked rather uncomfortable, arms crossed and Charms book open in his lap. Slowly he returned to normal, abandoning Charms and comparing his own essay with Tiberius', making corrections as Minerva directed. An hour or so passed that way, the three of them sitting in comfortable companionship on the sofa. The fire flickered and waned as time passed, bathing them all in orange glow and shadow. Minerva finally gave up on Tiberius' essay and shut her eyes with a yawn. Without even thinking she rested her head against Alastor's shoulder, as she had a thousand times before. He stiffened for a moment, and she opened one eye in a halfway questioning look. Alastor smiled then, warm and comforting and just the same as always, and Minerva could almost ignore the butterflies that swirled when his arm slipped around her shoulders.