At 9.30am the following morning, Hermione was already in the Room of Requirement setting up two scenes that they could begin shooting immediately. She had decided to do Pomona Sprout's first, seeing as it had already been rehearsed, just to ease everyone into it. She set up an adjoining scene for Sybil Trelawney, figuring it was best to get the flighty witch done as quickly as possible.
She stopped to admire her handiwork, leaving her with a few minutes to spare before the others should arrive. Taking a seat and sipping her tea, Hermione's thoughts strayed to Minerva, and she couldn't help a faint blush as she remembered what she had said to the professor the previous evening.
A little lift the flap for December! Her brain almost squealed at her. Hermione honestly didn't know what had gotten into her – well, unless oregano really was dangerous outside of the kitchen – but she knew that ever since their first meeting, she had wanted to get closer to Minerva. It wasn't that she hadn't wanted to before, but since the admission that she was gay, Hermione just felt a sudden urge to be near her all the time, and felt herself get insanely jealous each time she thought about what the witch was doing when she wasn't with Hermione. She was glad that she didn't have to spend much time in the headmaster's office anymore, sure that, even though he was now only a portrait, Dumbledore would see right through her, all the way down to the picture of the underwear she hoped Minerva wore. She even felt slightly jealous of Dumbledore, for Merlin's sake! She wanted to get to know Minerva more than anyone else did; the woman captivated her; enthralled her; excited her in ways that made not only her body but her heart and her brain tingle; and now that those flirtatious comments had slipped almost against her will from her mouth, she could only hope that Minerva felt the same.
The door to the room burst open, dragging her from her thoughts. Forcing her eyes up, she met Minerva's sparkling eyes, startled by the intensity in them before it was quickly hidden.
"Morning Hermione. Up and at 'em I see?"
Poppy Pomfrey shuffled past Minerva, a sly glint in her eye.
"Well mine certainly are." She said, cupping her breasts and pushing them together roughly. "What did I tell you, Minerva? Now I'm blemish-free and bootylicious!"
"Booty-what?"
"Sexy baby!" Rolanda Hooch piped up, coming into view behind Molly and Ginny.
"What on earth has gotten into you two?" Sprout asked, confused.
"Muggle internet. We spent last night doing some research. We are 'bootilicious babes' ready to storm the stage with our 'sexy backs'. Or something along those lines." Poppy declared confidently. "Bring it on." She added, with a nod of finality. Hermione caught Ginny's eye and both smiled at the absurdness of the comments coming from their once dignified school nurse.
"Right, well, I think that about sums up the morning pep talk I was going to give, though I can't say that I could have put it quite so colourfully. Pomona, Sybil, we'll be kicking off with you two, seeing as you both know exactly what you're doing. It'll give the rest of us a chance to work over the details of the shots we haven't yet rehearsed, and then hopefully, we can get them done today and tomorrow."
They spent a while making sure that the room was set up to their liking, and changing into dressing gowns, and before they knew it, and certainly before some of them were ready for it, the small photography team had arrived. Hermione noticed everyone had spent an inordinate amount of time talking to Sybil, and as Pomona Sprout entered her scene, and giggled, Hermione thought she knew why.
"Sss ger on wi it, en issi?" Sprout slurred, sitting down none too steadily in her space and letting Ginny organise the shrubbery.
"She's drunk!" Hermione hissed to Minerva. At Minerva's small chuckle, Hermione's eyes darted to glossy green ones.
"Aren't we all?" Minerva asked innocently, and at Hermione's shocked gasp, Minerva made a show of producing a bottle of Muggle vodka. "It's a celebration, Hermione!"
Hermione stared in wonder at Minerva. "But..."
"Oh, let's make a day of it," Molly interrupted, eyes sparkling as she poured a hefty amount into a glass and topped it off with a dash of something Hermione hoped was non-alcoholic. "If you can't beat 'em, Hermione...after all, it'll be your turn soon enough!"
Hermione looked around the room, and noticed that even Ginny seemed to be merrier than usual. Shrugging, she took the proffered glass from Molly.
"Fine. But if you stumble out of your buns, Mrs. Weasley, Ginny will never forgive you," she muttered darkly as she lifted the glass to her lips.
Half an hour later, Pomona and Sybil had been photographed, had remained in their dressing gowns for moral support, and were steadily adding to the range of alcoholic drinks accumulating on what had been designated the party table.
Rolanda was next, and as she took her position on the broom, shed her clothing and held the snitches, everyone laughed as the photographer blanched. Adjusting the lighting to the left of Rolanda, a short white-haired man, almost level with Rolanda's chest, lifted his head to the photographer.
"Best you photograph from straight on, mate," he said, cocking his head. "There ain't much left to the imagination from over here."
"You're spoiling all my fun," Rolanda muttered, then proceeded to whizz about the room, laughing gleefully, as the photographer tried to aim his camera with his eyes shut, wondering what on earth he had done to his boss in order to have landed this job.
As the shots progressed, so did the amount of alcohol consumed, until the photographs had turned into intricately drunken performances, with Molly running around her kitchen, quickly swapping buns for teapots, ducking behind clouds of flour. After one too many readjustments of the set by Rolanda Hooch, the lighting technician exploded in frustration.
"Don't. Touch. The. Buns." As the room came to a standstill, everyone staring at the small man who had been so quiet thus far, he blushed profusely. "Please. Sorry."
Rolanda snorted and dug Molly in the ribs.
"Bad girl." She muttered.
"Bun toucher." Molly countered, causing havoc in the room once again.
Poppy Pomfrey threw herself completely into the party mood, creating shapes in the clouds of potion steam surrounding her, at one point causing Molly to cover Ginny's eyes, and transfiguring a naughty nurse version of herself with such ease that Hermione swore she must have done it before. She thought twice about asking, though, realising that as much as she loved the company of the women, she had heard just about enough about their intimate lives. Ginny managed to keep an air of decorum about her as she lounged on a rock by the Great Lake, until Molly turned her back. Ginny made sure that the photographer was completely focused on her before she gracefully spun her body upwards to a crouching position then dived into the lake, a hearty laugh echoing through the room. Minerva thought the girl would have exceptional poise as an animagus.
"Right then," the photographer stated, clapping his hands together. "Who's next?"
Minerva McGonagall stood slowly, her body not betraying any of the effects of the alcohol.
"That would be me."
As the photographer paled, Minerva gathered all of her Professor demeanour to stride past him and cast a withering glare.
"Let's get on with it, Grant...I used to teach him," Minerva explained to the rest of the room. "Year of '82."
"Did you ever manage transfiguring frogs into princes?" Rolanda asked, her eyes gleaming.
"Umm...I can't recall...um...doing that..."
Minerva cast Rolanda a withering glare, one that Ginny was amused to see mirrored on Hermione's face.
"Don't be dense, Mr. Grant. She's implying that your transfiguration skills need to be unsurpassable in order to make an acceptable photograph of me. I, however, will be satisfied with the fact that you've mastered the use of the camera. Shall we?"
Minerva stood by the window to her office her body slightly facing away from the room, wearing nothing but her hat and a dressing gown, a rather large snowy owl perched on her arm covering her breasts, her lower body just covered by her desk. She took a deep breath, turned her head, her eyes immediately finding Hermione's, and she smiled the most devilish, sensual grin that Hermione had ever seen. Hermione, however, seeing the tension that still lay in the eyes, not quite buried underneath the alcohol and the smile, flashed a reassuring smile.
"You're hot," Hermione breathed so that only Minerva could hear. Then she licked her lips and raised her eyebrows in a distinctly lecherous way. "Off with her clothes!"
Minerva smiled and rolled her eyes, the tension broken.
"Fine," she huffed, and wordlessly banished her gown to a round of cheers. She pierced the camera with a smouldering gaze, and quick as a flash turned her body at the same time lifting her arm away from her chest. The owl launched from her arm, spreading its wings wider than seemed natural, and flew straight at the camera. Once everyone had recovered, their eyes darted back to where Minerva had been stood, only to find a grey tabby cat perched on the desk.
"Wow," Ginny breathed. "Now if you did that to the first years..."
But Minerva had transformed back into her human self and actually flopped down into a chair, her gown draped haphazardly around her.
"Minerva," Poppy asked, the first to gather her wits about her. "Are you alright?"
"She's quite pale." Molly stated unnecessarily, with a concerned look at Poppy.
"She's just shocked." Rolanda half slurred, pushing a glass of firewhiskey into Minerva's hand. "Minerva, knock it back."
It must have been the first time that Minerva had followed any instruction from Rolanda without question, causing Hermione to bend down by her knees, concerned. At the gentle touch on her thigh, Minerva started, her eyes focusing on Hermione.
"One minute the dressing gown was on, the next it was just me and the hat! I feel...I feel..."
"Faint?"
"Sick?"
"Drunk?"
"Liberated." Minerva finished, leaning forward to refill her own glass. She took a deep, steadying breath, and raised her glass in a toast.
"Come on then, Hermione, the sooner you get done the sooner I get to have at it again."
"Blimey, where did you come from?" Ginny asked, in awe of the sudden change in Minerva.
"I'd forgotten how thrilling it is to feel...thrilled! Oh, and regarding the first years, they wouldn't spend the rest of the year shaking with fear and anticipation, and in this modern world where everything is at your fingertips, it is nice to keep an air of mystique about oneself. Don't you think, Hermione?"
Hermione opened and closed her mouth a few times, then nodded rather dumbly. Noticing the effect that Minerva had on Hermione, Rolanda roughly ruffled her hair.
"Not too much mystique, though, eh, Miss Granger?"
Hermione blushed furiously, and found herself annoyed at Minerva for the grin that had spread over her face. Causing squirming was supposed to be her job.
"Yes, well, my turn now, isn't it?" Hermione asked as she strode into the scene that had just changed to the Gryffindor common room. "Don't you all have cocktails to continue making, or something?" she aimed at the women who stood watching her, smirking.
Hermione sat on the sofa, in front of the roaring fire in the Gryffindor common room. She had books spread out around her, and a piece of parchment artistically draped around her body. She began to practice her charms and transfiguration, creating a host of new objects, and stretching her knowledge of manipulation and levitation to the limit, leaving everyone in the room more than impressed. As the photographer was about to wrap up, Minerva decided that a grand finale was in order. She pointed her wand to the fireplace, which roared to life, causing an array of reactions through the room; Poppy screamed; Sybil fell off her stool; Molly grabbed Ginny to her tightly, and Rolanda and Pomona found themselves in each other's arms. Out of the fireplace, a giant lion leapt, made from pure flames. Hermione leapt from the sofa, wand outstretched. The lion reared on its hind legs and with one long, ear-splitting, hair-raising roar, opened its mouth and engulfed Hermione. No sooner had Hermione disappeared in the flames, than they promptly disappeared with a theatrical whoosh back into the fire, leaving Hermione stood draped in a Gryffindor scarf, wand still raised.
"I believe that makes you hotter." Minerva whispered so quietly that if it wasn't for the small smile, Hermione would have sworn she imagined it. To the rest of the room she added "That was perfect, I think." Minerva stated from her chair. "I believe that signals the end of all the individual shots. A celebration round of drinks is in order, I think."
The room took a few moments to recover.
"Merlin's beard, Minerva, you did that? A bit of warning wouldn't have gone amiss, woman, you know, given recent history!" Molly berated her, finally loosening her grip slightly on Ginny. Minerva had the decency to blush.
"My apologies everyone. It just popped into my head, and I thought it would be a fitting ending so I went ahead without thought."
"Well, it certainly was theatrical, I'll give you that. But the shock has left me feeling far too sober, and we still have four more months to shoot. To, umm, Christmas!" Rolanda shouted, dispatching a glass of sparkling bright green liquid to everyone.
"What is this?" Minerva asked, eyeing the liquid suspiciously, along with everyone else except Sybil, whose glass was hovering in front of her lips expectantly.
"I've decided to name it McGonagall Minx in honour of your performance. Bottoms up...or whichever way you'd prefer yours!" Whilst everyone cheered and drunk their shot, Rolanda quickly added in Minerva's ear. "Or should I say whichever way Hermione would like it?"
Minerva spluttered through her mouthful of liquid, and when she looked up, her cheeks flaming, she found Rolanda looking innocently away, and Hermione smirking at her once again.
Mr. Grant the photographer, took in the group of ladies giggling, laughing, and generally getting a little merry, and sighed. He raked his hand through his hair.
"Never mind, only four more shots to do."
His eyes swept the table where Hermione had kept all relevant documents, including roughly sketched out ideas. His eyes were drawn to the Quidditch idea, and he rolled them, wondering what on earth Hooch would come out with this time. Then he took in the planned shot for January, and although his courage blanched a little at the thought of what McGonagall would say to that idea, he couldn't help but grin as he realised that the longer the women were here, the more they drunk, and the less likely it was that they would actually have to put much effort into acting out the morning after effect after all. His grin widened.
"Ladies, I believe this bottle of rum has been sadly overlooked."
He smiled as it made the rounds. This was turning out to be quite entertaining.
So are we still liking? Is it too..dull; stupid; whatever? Let me know. Probably a few more chapters left...already got them vaguely planned out so shouldn't be too long, as long as you still want them x
And if you still want them, then I shall gladly ignore my dissertation work in favour of this!