I apologize for the long wait between updates; I got a new job and it takes up much more of my time than I would like. Amidst all of the confusion, Chapter 14 was born! Reviews were shockingly scant, I'm sorry to say, so don't forget to review this time. And as per anonymous request - Glaze, I think it was - I have tried to give you some humour, but it's not really my forte. Enjoy! :)

Raw Meat and Thestrals

Winter had truly fallen by the time the students left for the Christmas holidays. The puff of white smoke that the Hogwarts Express belched out upon departure was only a shade darker than the snow-covered ground. The expanse of sky that served as a backdrop to the castle was occasionally a brilliant blue, but more often than not it adhered to true Scottish weather and was grey. The lake as a whole was not frozen, due in part to its size and to the Giant Squid, but patches of thick ice could be found near the shore. A path from the castle to the main gates had been forged quite cleanly, but only for the reason that hundreds of students had trampled the same way that morning. So in that way, December had truly fallen. For the sentimental type, Christmas was certainly in the air, and most members of staff spent the day after the students had gone thinking of that particular holiday.

Minerva, however, spent that morning, thinking not of Christmas, but in contemplation of the amount of 'none'. It was, she thought, an odd characteristic. In some ways, a person dreaded the number, if in relation to the amount of time, news, or money. But if a person related 'none' to death, poverty, and trouble, than 'none' was indeed welcomed in. She herself could think of many times in which she had longed for 'none' – when Horace had found his Firewhiskey, for example. This particular case of 'none' was interesting, though.

It had been a long while since the school had been completely devoid of any student body during Christmas break – at least ten years, if not more, Minerva thought. And yet, here they were, the castle empty of hormonal, pubescent teenagers and full of faculty, staff, and Christmas spirit. 'None' was now referenced to the number of students in the castle.

Rather than put up the twelve massive Christmas trees in the Great Hall, which was, after all, for the students' enjoyment, the staff had decided to place three large trees in the staffroom instead. This made sense, because with no students, that was where they would be spending most of their time and eating their meals. Dumbledore, bless that mad, dear man, had decided that instead of having Minerva and Filius decorate the pines, the entire staff should do it together. That was how Minerva found herself Saturday morning, with an armful of garland and thimble of patience.

'Pomona, that piece of holly is as perfectly positioned as it is ever going to be, even if you stand there fixing it for the next three centuries,' Minerva snapped, tapping her foot. 'I happen to have better things to do with that time, so if you could leave off that tiny plant for just a moment and start using the garland I have been holding for you for the last fifteen minutes, I would greatly appreciate it.'

'Minerva, are you always this so short-tempered when you decorate the trees?' Madam Pomfrey asked, coming around from the other side of the tree. 'Filius, do tell the truth: does Minerva tear your throat out every year?'

Flitwick chuckled heartily as he trailed his wand, which was blossoming golden bubbles, over the branches of the second tree.

'You keep talking, Poppy, and it won't be Filius' throat you'll be worried for,' Minerva retorted, sighing in relief as Pomona lifted an end of the garland from Minerva's arms. 'Thank you, Pomona.'

As Sprout used her wand to levitate the shimmering decoration to the top of the tree, Dumbledore entered the room with an armful of mistletoe. 'Here we are,' he said cheerfully. 'My favourite Christmas decoration!' He stopped next to Minerva and held a sprig of mistletoe over her head. He kissed her cheek cheerfully, grinning cheekily as he pulled away.

'Very funny, Albus,' Minerva replied, trying and failing to hide a slight smile on her face. 'Stop playing around and hang it up.' Dumbledore grinned again.

'But I like to play,' he replied. 'Don't you, darling?'

'Frankly?' Minerva said. 'No. Now stop pestering me and be helpful.'

'So cold, Minerva,' Dumbledore said, hiding a grin. 'Fine, then. You give me a kiss and I'll go pester someone else.' Minerva's arms were finally relieved of the garland as the last of it was wrapped around the tree. She turned to Albus, her hands on her hips and a sparkle in her eyes.

'Don't you have anything better to do?' she asked, looking at him over her glasses.

'What could be more important than getting kisses from beautiful witches, dear Minerva?' grinned Albus.

'Oh, get a room,' Slughorn called from across the room as he flicked his wand at a box of baubles.

'Gladly,' Dumbledore answered, snaking an arm around Minerva's waist. For the shortest of moments, Pomona felt sure they would kiss – properly, this time – but no, that was preposterous, and then Minerva had elbowed her charmer in the ribs and moved away. Pomona took note of Albus noticing the blush in Minerva's cheeks, and his delight in it.

Minerva had gone to help Madam Pomfrey. 'You have something to tell me, Minerva?' Poppy whispered behind the as-of-yet undecorated third tree. 'Look, you're even blushing.'

'I am not!' Minerva hissed back. 'You're being ridiculous.' Poppy shook her head ruefully.

'Tell me,' she begged, in a manner most unusual of the strict matron.

'Later,' Minerva finally gave in, mostly out of annoyance, as they came out from behind the tree. Suddenly, there was a loud bang, and Minerva found herself in her Animagus form, her hackles raised on end, out of sheer shock. Irritated, she shifted back, glaring at Slughorn, who'd dropped a box of decorations. 'Magic, Horace,' she reminded him sarcastically. He rolled his eyes in return, and Minerva looked up to see Trudy staring at her.

'Something wrong, Trudy?' she asked. Trudy blinked and shook her head.

'Oh, no, I'm sorry. I've just never seen you…' Trudy trailed off, unsure of the right terminology.

'Transform?' Pomona offered as she walked by. Trudy nodded.

'You should have asked,' Minerva said, not unkindly.

'Minerva loves showing off,' Slughorn called from across the room. He grinned cheekily as Minerva glared at him, but he smiled for just a moment in apology, and Minerva's slight nod showed she understood.

'Would you like to see?' she offered to the younger witch. Trudy nodded hesitantly.

'If you don't mind…' she said, attempting to hide her eagerness. 'I've never seen an Animagus transformation in person before.' Minerva cocked an eyebrow in one moment, and in the next, a small grey cat was in her place. Trudy gaped again.

'Amazing,' she breathed, and the cat's tail flicked before Professor McGonagall had once again returned. 'How do you do it?'

'It was a result of my Transfiguration research,' Minerva replied, smoothing her hair. 'I did an extensive study into all fields of Transfiguration before I returned to Hogwarts to teach.' She pursed her lips and added, 'though I won't pretend it hasn't come in handy over the years.' She seemed lost in a dark thought for a moment, but a second later she had brought herself to the present and smiled.

'Thank you for showing me,' Trudy told her. 'It was really very interesting.' This was the longest conversation Trudy had had with Minerva in weeks. Perhaps she remembered, for in the next moment the younger witch had excused herself to help Filius. Minerva sighed and turned around, the find Pomona standing behind her.

'Yes?' Minerva asked, raising her eyebrows at Pomona's pained look. Sprout's face quickly smoothed over, and she jerked her head towards a corner. Minerva followed.

'Poppy and I are going to Hogsmeade this afternoon, and thought we'd extend the invitation to you,' Pomona said.

Minerva considered. She would have to answer all of Pomona and Poppy's questions, but perhaps she could get some of her own answers. Besides which, she could use a day out – and an opportunity to buy some new robes.

'Thank you,' Minerva replied briskly, having decided. 'We'll decide what time to go at lunch.' Pomona agreed, and the two witches turned back to the Christmas trees.

Dumbledore had by all means not forgotten his vow to kiss Minerva. In fact, he was looking forward to it with anticipation, wondering at her reaction. But in the staffroom in front of everyone was not the setting he wanted their kiss to take place. He very much doubted she would appreciate an intimate movement in such a public environment – assuming, of course, that she would appreciate any sort intimate movement at all.

Albus did, however, have an idea for the afternoon. He'd rather warmed up to the staff-bonding idea he'd introduced that morning, when they had all decorated the trees. The trees did look smashing, covered in gleaming icicles and baubles and lights and Merlin knew what else. At lunch, while pretending to admire one the trees, he'd overhead Minerva, Poppy, and Pomona making plans to go to the village that afternoon. A sneaking plan had begun to worm its way into his mind, though he had kept his face smooth.

It wasn't as though they hadn't enough work to do over the holidays, though the absence of students certainly lessened it. The work on the castle was nearly done, and although Minerva had eased off her participation a bit in the last few weeks, she had told him it would likely be done by Christmas. All of this had weighed on Albus' mind, but he hadn't given up on his idea. They all needed a break.

So shortly after lunch he'd recruited Filius, Horace, Hagrid, and even Connor. Trudy had noticed something was going on, and not wanting to exclude her, Albus had asked Filius to ask Trudy to meet him outside at two o'clock – the time that Minerva and the others were going to Hogsmeade.

All of this would fail to explain why Albus and the other male members of staff were crouched on either side of the path at one fifty-five that afternoon – at least until one factors snow into the equation.

Albus peeked over the edge of his snowbank and caught Filius' eye. The tiny wizard winked at him, his gloved hands cupping what Albus knew to be the final ingredient for what was sure to be the most fun he'd had a while. He also glanced down the path and just caught sight of the tip of Horace's hat, emerald green against the ivory snow, and wondered if Minerva would notice.

Just then, Albus heard voices, and he instinctively ducked lower, daring to peek at the three – no, four – witches coming down the path. His eyes were drawn to Minerva first, and he yet again, as he had through the years, admired her. Her skin almost matched the snow; her hair he likened to the night sky. This time was different from past observations, however. While previously he had appreciated her loveliness objectively, now he looked at her with cheer and delight, knowing how much she meant to him – and hopefully how much more she would become.

But now was not the time to be fawning over his deputy. He smiled to himself as they drew nearer, and finally, praying to Merlin for ability, he drew back his arm and fired his ammunition, throwing with all the aim and accuracy he possessed.

Albus Dumbledore had just throw a snowball.

This snowball struck his intended target (Minerva, who else?) in the shoulder, exploding into her face and causing her to stumble. Albus heard a similar thump on the other side of the path, and knew that Filius' and the others' snowballs had hit their targets as well. Minerva whirled around to face her attacker, a glare half-formed on her face. 'Albus Dumbl-!' And then she caught sight of Albus' joyful, mischievous expression. The glare dissolved so quickly it was almost alarming, and a wicked look took its place.

Too late, Albus took off down the path, as fast as his one-hundred-and-fifty-plus years would let him. Unfortunately for him, Minerva's days as a Chaser had awarded her both accuracy and strength, and Albus was struck in the back of the head with a large snowball, toppling his face-first into the cold snow.

Perhaps it was the shock that started it all, for when Poppy, Pomona, and Trudy caught sight of Minerva's triumphant expression, they laughed and scooped up snow themselves.

'That'll teach you to hit me snowballs, Filius Flitwick!' Pomona shouted as she hurled her ammunition after the Charms master.

The siege continued for several minutes. Poor Madam Pomfrey was subjected to one of Hagrid's massive snowballs, but Minerva and Trudy, who realized she'd been set up, quickly jumped to her aid, pelting the half-giant before suffering an attack, courtesy of Connor and Slughorn, themselves. Albus ran for the castle, knowing full well he'd never make it.

'Don't let him get away!' Minerva shouted, and Albus ducked as he ran, laughter slowing him down. Eventually, a snowball caught him in the ear, and he fell in surprise. Minerva, hot on his heels, threw another snowball, but was soon hit from behind by one of Hagrid's snow boulders. She collapsed next to him.

'Albus Dumbledore, of all the childish things to do,' she began, laughing as so rarely she did. 'A snowball fight, really?'

'Really,' Albus answered. 'Look how much fun everyone is having, Minerva.' Minerva looked, and smiled as the others fought furiously, retreating down the path. The snow began to fall more heavily, obscuring her view.

'I suppose so,' she said, never one to admit defeat easily. Albus laughed again, and she joined in.

When their laughter and died, it suddenly occurred to Albus three things: one, how quiet it had suddenly gotten; two, how cold it was, lying in the snow; and three, an excellent way to get warm. The opportunity was practically begging, and he felt a strong urge to follow through.

It was time to fulfill his vow.

He locked eyes with Minerva, lying next to him. She shivered, and he wondered if it was due to the cold, or otherwise. He hoped it was the latter. He smiled at her, hoping to offer her comfort, and propped himself up on his elbow, shifting towards her. Her gaze dropped a few inches, and he leaned forwards.

He wanted to kiss her.

'Minerva! Minerva, are you coming?' came Madam Pomfrey's voice from a ways down the path, through the heavily falling snow. Albus had oftentimes appreciated the matron's matter-of-fact mannerisms and lack of subtlety, but now was not one of those times. Minerva rose to her feet fluidly.

'Marvellous idea, Albus,' Minerva told him, as if nothing had happened. 'Next time, think well before you attack an ex-Chaser.'

Albus rose to his feet, almost feeling slightly disgruntled. Before he could say anything, Minerva and stepped forward and kissed his cheek – a gesture she hadn't used for years. Albus stood in the snow, mouth agape, as Minerva cocked an eyebrow at him. She threw him an enigmatic smile and strode off, making her way through the snow, the cloak Albus had given her wrapped around her shoulders.

He would never understand women.

'Alright, start talking,' Madam Pomfrey ordered once they were all seated in the Three Broomsticks. 'What's been going on?'

Minerva shook her head and sipped her gillywater. 'Pomona first,' she said, raising her eyebrows at her friend. 'You've kept something from me as well.'

Pomona had a quick debate with herself. On one hand, she ought to tell Minerva what Connor had said – she's shagging Dumbledore – in case he started to spread that around. On the other hand, doing so would only enrage Minerva, not to mention hurt her as well. Pomona decided on a half-truth.

'Trudy and Connor had a row after he'd told you that she fancies Bran,' Pomona began. Poppy's lack of surprise told Minerva Pomona had already told Poppy of Trudy's fondness for her brother. 'Trudy was furious at him for refusing to grasp the complexity of the situation, and Connor got rather rude. He said,' Pomona continued, hiding her hesitation over the next few words, 'several impolite things, among them that you, Minerva, shouldn't care about your brother's relationships. Trudy was quite beside herself. She hasn't spoken to Connor since – or been able to look at you.' Minerva pursed her lips.

'This is all ridiculous,' she said decidedly. 'I will go see Trudy this afternoon and tell her that she had nothing to fear. Doubtlessly, she won't appreciate it, but my patience has run its course.' Pomona could only nod and pray to Merlin that Minerva wouldn't find out what Connor had truly said – although Trudy was probably highly reluctant to repeat the words. That would have to be enough.

There was a pause as all three witches sipped their drinks. The three clunks that sounded thereafter signified different sentiments: Poppy's was impatience; Pomona's relish; Minerva's resignation.

'You remember the time the headmaster and I quarrelled?' Minerva began. 'After I had smoothed things over, so to speak – yes, Poppy, I apologized, no need to look so shocked! – Albus and I went to dinner.' Minerva took another sip before continuing, wishing for a moment that the liquid in her glass was something stronger.

'Where to?' Pomona asked, leaning forwards in her chair, smiling almost conspiratorially.

'Fairy Lights,' replied Minerva, not elaborating. As far as she was concerned, the sentimentality the place held for her was personal.

'That's lovely,' Poppy said, watching Minerva. 'How did it go?'

Minerva hesitated for a moment before answering as honestly as she could. 'It was very nice,' she admitted finally. 'I won't deny the…the romance of the whole thing,' she said slowly. 'I hadn't thought…it wasn't a dinner between simple friends, perhaps I ought to put it like that. Though…well, in any case,' giving herself a figurative shake, 'I hadn't prepared for that sort of atmosphere.'

'You don't think he planned it?' Pomona asked, looking delighted.

Minerva shrugged, irritated now. 'I don't know. I'm being terribly mawkish,' she said crossly. 'Can I go on?' she added, seeing Pomona open her mouth. 'Nothing's happened, since then, really. Except for just an hour ago.'

'The snowball fight?' Poppy asked, rolling her eyes. 'Men are so trivial.'

'No,' Minerva said. 'I mean, yes, of course, it was trivial. But that's not what I'm referring to.' She paused.

Minerva was fairly good at reading people. One didn't teach for forty years without picking up some sort of proficiency at interpreting expressions and actions. While Dumbledore was, more often than not, an exception when it came to normal human reactions, the basics didn't change. Minerva had been an attractive witch during her youth, and she'd grown quite skilled at reading wizards' romantic intentions. She'd always been able to tell when a man wanted her, however hard they'd tried to hide it. Albus, however, hadn't hidden it at all. Yes, that moment in the snow, she'd been quite certain that Albus had wanted to kiss her – and would have, she thought, if Poppy hadn't interrupted.

'I'd tripped,' Minerva said, having gathered her thoughts, 'as had Albus. He looked at me…' she trailed off.

'Yes?' Poppy and Pomona said simultaneously, leaning towards Minerva eagerly.

'I think we would have kissed,' Minerva said quietly. 'Had Poppy not called me.'

'Are you sure?' Pomona said in a hushed voice, the one reserved for the library when Madam Pince was swooping about.

'He was going to kiss me,' Minerva said flatly. 'I could tell.'

Had Madam Pomfrey and Professor Sprout been younger, perhaps in their teenage years or even slightly older, they most likely would have squealed in delight. Being older and (marginally) more mature, they instead gasped, and began laughing in excitement.

'This is wonderful!' cried sentimental Pomona. 'Anyone can see how much you two mean to each other – this is the beginning, believe you me!'

'Be quiet,' Minerva snapped. 'You romanticize everything, Pomona! This isn't a fairy tale.'

But nothing could dampen Poppy and Pomona's delight, and their excitement was not easily contained. Minerva realized this, and threw the rest of the meat to the Thestrals.

'We're going to the Gratitude Ball together,' Minerva said shortly, and braced herself for the explosion. She was not disappointed.

Madam Ethelfleda narrowed her eyes as she surveyed the fabrics before her. She needed a truly special one for what she was going to make. Red wouldn't do, nor would blue or green or – Merlin forbid! – yellow. No, these colours may be classics for the average woman, but the witch that would soon arrive would need so much more than a simple dress.

Ethelfleda finally chose her fabric and turned to the table, laying it down carefully. Yes, the witch would be irritated and sceptical, but she would be beautiful. All she needed was a way to show it. Gladrags Wizardwear specialized in vintage clothes, after all. While Madam Ethelfleda hadn't made a gown in years, she sensed that this was an opportunity she wouldn't want to miss.

She made a mental note to give the workers the day off the witch was coming. The witch would be irritated enough without several young wizards breathing down her neck. The witch would have to be alone in the store, or the opportunity might escape.

But that was ridiculous. Madam Ethelfleda Gladrags hadn't missed an opportunity in years, not since her grandfather had left her his business. This would be her moment to shine. She silently thanked the witch who would soon arrive. Finally taking up her tools, she set to work on the gown that would be her finest ever created.

TBC

A/N: Well, there you have it. Please review, and I shall do my very best to have the next chapter up before Christmas. Would it be very terrible if it went up after? Sorry in advance :P Don't forget to review!