The year in brief reactions...
January 1999 – Recovery.
January the first rolled around, and the first thing that mostly everyone did after trying to treat their hangover, was to open their calendars. It seemed that a mist of anticipation dangled over most of Britain's wizard population as the picture came into focus.
Merlin had been subjected to a myriad of curses for centuries, some more original than others, but even he would have turned scarlet had he heard the ways that his name was used throughout Britain as the nude month of January was revealed.
"Professor McGonagall? Merlin's saggy left-"
"Draco! We do not use that language in this house. At least now that Bella isn't here...what are you looking at?" Lucius Malfoy looked over his son's shoulder, and then snatched the calendar away.
"Minerva McBloodyGonagall? Merlin's mouldy-"
"Lucius! Not in front of Draco!"
Wordlessly, he handed the calendar over to his wife, who looked shocked for a moment, before smiling wryly.
"Well well, isn't she the cat that got slightly too much cream?"
Ron peered over Harry's shoulder, and then snatched the calendar away from him, his face paling with each passing moment.
"Mum?" he squeaked. Then he violently brandished the calendar underneath Ginny's nose as she entered The Burrow's kitchen.
"Bloody hell, Ginny! Have you seen this? You're naked in bed with Hermione, who's nearly feeling up McBloodyGonagall, and our mother is cuddled up to Professor Sprout!"
"Yes, Ronald, I was there you know." Ginny answered calmly, giving Harry a quick peck on the cheek before heading to the breakfast cupboard. "And she wasn't feeling her up. It just so happened that she fell asleep holding her tail, and Minerva transfigured back during the night."
"H...holding her tail?"
Harry started to laugh.
"I think that may be considered too much information for your brother's delicate self."
"But...and...Hooch is half wearing a leather outfit; mum is cuddling Sprout...is the whole world secretly gay?"
It was 5pm on January the 6th when Minerva finally entered her rooms and slumped onto her settee.
"It can't be that bad."
She jumped at the voice behind her, then relaxed again as Hermione rounded the sofa and pressed a mug of tea into Minerva's hands.
"You don't know the half of it. The amount of wool I've confiscated today is nobody's business; I've seen no less than five mice running through my classroom, and several students seem to be out to prove that I will go crazy for catnip. In short, it's been a rather trying day."
Hermione resisted the urge to laugh. She settled on a sympathetic moan, which nevertheless sounded like more of a snort to Minerva.
"Well, look on the bright side, love. At least you've managed to prove that you can keep a lid on your deepest desires."
"To chase mice?" Minerva asked sarcastically, quirking an eyebrow. "I knew that photo was a bad idea."
"That photo," Hermione breathed into Minerva's ear. "Along with the rest, of course, has so far raised £605,000 galleons, and that's only counting the sales generated through Hogwarts, St. Mungo's and The Daily Prophet's auctioning of the signed copies we made."
Minerva gasped as she turned to meet Hermione's eyes, incredulity shining in them.
"£605, 000 galleons?" she echoed.
"Mhmm. I just received an owl from the minister of magic himself. And that's without counting general sales. Not bad, hey?"
Minerva's eyes shone with pride. She quickly stood and scooped Hermione into her embrace. She twirled them both around the room, Hermione's laughs bouncing off the walls.
"You're amazing, Hermione Granger."
"Oh, hush! I bet you'd have given anything to be able to curse me for this at any given moment today!"
"Well..."
Hermione quirked her eyebrows.
"Ok, a few occasions. But that still doesn't detract from your brilliance."
Hermione wrapped her arms around Minerva and pressed their bodies tightly together.
"None of it would have been worth it without you."
"Charmer."
"No seriously; apparently one buyer bid £95,000 galleons for a signed, enlarged version of the calendar specifically to see you. I'd say the thought of seeing you naked has generated at least half the sales."
Minerva quirked her brow and swatted her lightly on the arm.
"Of course that's not the only reason." Hermione quickly added, and wiggled her eyebrows suggestively. Minerva laughed.
"You are incorrigible."
"Not to mention intelligent...indestructible...insatiable..."
She punctuated each word with a kiss and only stopped when Minerva's knees hit the back of the sofa. She pushed her back enough to force Minerva to sit, and then straddled her lap.
"Incorrigible." Minerva repeated, as she surrendered her lips once more.
February 1999 – Professor Sybil Trelawney, Divination, Battle of Hogwarts Honour.
"I sense a great sadness about you, my child." Professor Trelawney began her lesson with the third year Hufflepuffs. "A deep, deep feeling of unsettlement."
"That's because none of us can look into our crystal balls without seeing that calendar!" someone in the back quipped.
It was difficult to tell who turned the deepest red; Sybil, or the student who had just realised what exactly he was eye level with.
"Tea leaves next lesson!" she trilled, and everyone rushed to the doors, thrilled at the timely intervention of the bell.
Sybil's hands shook as she opened her private desk drawer and hurriedly took out a package. If she had to endure this teasing, she was determined she would do it without turning into a nervous wreck. As she shook out some of the contents, she was overwhelmingly glad that Hermione hadn't told anyone about their little encounter over her drug use all that while ago. Or that, despite her brains, the woman hadn't thought to search her room for any more. Not all that clever, is she? Sybil thought proudly as she took a deep breath, feeling instantly at ease.
At the bottom of the tower, several students frowned. It was nowhere near dinner time, but as they all deeply inhaled, confused, they could swear that the smell matched the one that sometimes wafted through the Great Hall at dinner times.
"Oregano!" a Hufflepuff student shouted triumphantly, then frowned again. Oregano? In Divination? The world was getting stranger.
March 1999 – Madam Rolanda Hooch, Quidditch coach/referee; flying instructor, Battle of Hogwarts Honour.
Four fourth year girls huddled together around the side of the broom shed, a copy of the calendar held between them.
"Here it comes!"
"I told you it'd be her!"
"Wow!"
The image of Rolanda Hooch came into focus, a couple of snitches and Minerva's last minute addition of a Quaffle the only things preserving her decency. She flew about the scene so fast that her Holyhead Harpies socks became a blur of colour, and it was impossible to make out the finer details of her body, much to the disappointment of the girls, who had eagerly noticed the initial abandonment of the balls. They were so engrossed that they didn't notice a figure peering over their shoulders until a loud clearing of throat made them all jump. Rolanda Hooch nodded in satisfaction towards the calendar. She headed towards the door of the broom shed before she turned and made sure the girls saw her cast an appraising eye over her own body.
"Baywatch material, I'd say ladies."
She smiled to herself as she heard the shocked gasps and then the round of giggling begin as she disappeared into the shed.
April 1999 – Professor Pomona Sprout, Herbology, Battle of Hogwarts Honour
Neville entered Greenhouse three to get the Mandrakes ready for the second years. As well as completing his NEWT's, he was acting as a general apprentice to Professor Sprout, who after a shaky start, had identified his natural talent for Herbology and was determined to see his ambitions realised. He made sure everything was in place, double checked – it was Gryffindors and Slytherins, after all, and even after The Battle of Hogwarts, old habits die hard – as quickly as possible, and then headed to the small office area attached to the greenhouses. He barely managed to keep his excitement in check as he made a beeline for the calendar that hung on the wall, now depicting a rather tired-looking Rolanda Hooch almost letting her Snitches slide. Grinning, he flipped the page quickly, and waited with bated breath for the few moments that it took for the picture to come into focus.
"Professor Sprout!" he gasped, almost dropping the calendar as his face turned a deep red. He cocked his head slowly to the side, his ruddy face by now almost displaying intense concentration.
"Blimey!" he muttered, studying the photo from all angles. "I never knew broccoli could be so intriguing!"
May 1999 – Quidditch Practice, R. Hooch, G. Weasley
"Mum! MOLLY!" Two voices simultaneously reverberated through The Burrow, before a thundering of footsteps could be heard on the stairs. Molly calmly continued beating her eggs in the kitchen as George and Arthur came bursting into the kitchen, both clutching copies of the calendar.
"Mum!" George started, his eyes twinkling, "Have you seen Ginny?"
"More to the point, Molly, have you seen Ginny and Madam Hooch?" Arthur said, his expression nowhere near as jovial as his son's.
"It's a naked calendar, dear, what do you expect?"
"They really did this?" George was beside himself, a sly grin threatening to erupt into laughter. He thrust the calendar under her mother's nose. "Yes, George, and really, I was there, I don't need to see-"
Molly stopped abruptly as she took in the scene playing out in front of her.
"That...woman! Honestly!" Molly's egg beating became even more vigorous. "Behave, I told the pair of them...turn your back for one second..." her features darkened so much that Arthur was completely positive his presence wasn't needed anymore. He backed out of the kitchen, pulling George with him, as Molly Weasley's voice filled the whole of downstairs. They had no doubt that the whole of Hogwarts would be privy to that Howler.
"GINEVRA WEASLEY!" Ginny paled considerably, and she had to stop herself from turning around to check that her mother wasn't actually in the room. "HONESTLY! NAKED YOU SAID; FINE I SAID; NAKED WITH THAT HARRIOT YOU SAID, FINE I SAID...NEVER NEVER COULD HAVE ENVISIONED...THIS! ONE MINUTE...I TURN MY BACK FOR ONE MINUTE!"
By now, the whole school had seen the calendar shot, whereupon after trading practice shots with each other, Ginny had surreptitiously glanced to some unseen distance, manoeuvred her broom above Rolanda's and feigned a hit by a bludger. She mock fainted off her broom and landed on top of Rolanda, leaving the woman no choice but to hold on to her lest they both tumble to the ground. Both women had again glanced to an unseen spot and burst into giggles.
"WELL, AT LEAST YOUR MODESTY IS STILL COVERED, I SUPPOSE, BUT THAT IS COMPLETELY BESIDE THE POINT! YOU...YOU'LL TURN ME GREYER THAN ANY OF YOUR BROTHERS EVER HAVE!"
Just when she was about to breathe a sigh of relief, the howler focused its wrath upon the staff table, where Minerva, Poppy, Pomona, Sybil and Hooch all reflexively shrunk back.
"AND YOU!" Molly continued, this coming out in such a snarl as to make even Minerva cringe, "I SHOULD HAVE KNOWN THAT YOU WOULD TRY TO CORRUPT MY DAUGHTER...BEATEN TO HERMIONE, LETS TRY GINNY INSTEAD...WELL, MADAM HOOCH...HANDS OFF, DO YOU HEAR! HARRY IS AUROR TRAINING NOW!"
Ginny couldn't resist a snort at this thinly veiled threat.
"AND IF I CATCH ONE LITTLE SNIFF OF EITHER OF YOU TRYING TO WIND ME UP FURTHER, I'LL HAVE YOU OUT OF HOGWARTS, AND YOU DE-GNOMING MY GARDEN EVERY WEEK FOR THE REST OF YOUR LIFE, DO YOU UNDERSTAND!" The howler turned to glare at both of them, the resemblance to Molly uncanny; a faint echo of George's parting "lesbians are the in thing, mum, honestly...your fault, I suppose, letting her brawl with all us boys..." could be heard before it exploded violently. The hall was silent for minutes, until Minerva cleared her throat.
"Yes. Well. Quite. Nothing to add, Madam Hooch?"
No one had ever seen Rolanda lost for words, and when Sybil was the first to tentatively giggle, as if testing the waters, pretty soon most of the Great Hall joined in, along with wild speculation about what exactly Hermione had gotten up to.
June 1999 – Duelling, M. McGonagall, H. Granger
Hermione slowly crawled back into her bed, shivering slightly. Spring had not yet graced Scotland with its warmth in the early mornings. Smiling, she gladly curled up next to the woman who had been sound asleep next to her.
Minerva woke with a shrill scream. Hermione chuckled.
"Hermione, that is evil! You're freezing!"
"And you're toasty warm. Didn't your parents ever teach you to share?" Hermione wrapped her arms tighter around Minerva, causing the other woman to hiss.
"Fine! But don't move again until you warm up."
"But then I can't show you what I got out of bed for."
Minerva said nothing.
"I think you'll like it." Hermione coaxed as she planted a kiss on Minerva's chest.
"Oh, go on then." Minerva finally relented.
Hermione let her go and reached to the bedside table where she'd placed her copy of their calendar.
They watched the scene unfold, neither tiring of watching the other. They went to look away as the scene finished, only for the black mist to dissipate and for them to reappear, locked together in the heated embrace that they'd shared after transforming back. Hermione gasped and Minerva blushed.
"I haven't seen that bit before."
"Nor me." Hermione breathed. She caught Minerva's look of horror. "You don't think..."
Minerva's hand covered her mouth. Hermione held her close, trying to hide her own rising panic. Granted, most everyone now knew about them, but for the deputy headmistress of Hogwarts to actually be seen in that position...at that moment there was a tap on the window. Hermione gave Minerva a reassuring squeeze before rising to let the owl in.
She read the parchment quickly, her frown quickly dissipating into a laugh.
At Minerva's frosty glare, Hermione quickly read it out.
"Dear Hermione and Minerva,
(Put Herminerva...why...it sounds clever, like 'Bennifer, or Brangelina'...who?...nevermind...)
Excuse Rolanda. She likes this confounded muggle contraption far too much. I think Arthur mentioned it was called a Confounder actually.
Anyway, we decided you needed something a bit more special to remember our experience by, so we got together with Mr. Grant who kindly made a special edition including your...brief dalliance. We hope you like it. And Minerva, dear, stop panicking; you are the sole owners of that particular scene.
All our love,
Mollanda
(No! It doesn't work like that...whyever not?...because the two have to be a couple!...oh I see, so like Garry?...Garry?...Ginny and Harry - Garry...Merlin preserve us, come here on Google...Google? Oh, is that-NO!)
Hermione met Minerva's eyes and they both burst out laughing, relief visible on both their features.
"You know what occurs to me?" Hermione asked as she sauntered back to the bed, floating the parchment over to her desk nearby.
"What, pray tell?"
"It occurs to me that we haven't finished this particular scene."
Minerva raised an eyebrow.
"Oh no?"
Hermione shook her head as she slowly climbed onto the edge of the bed.
"I could have sworn..."
Hermione cut her off.
"No no. Not this month, anyway." And she pounced on Minerva in a move worthy of any lioness.
"Incorrigible," Minerva managed to mutter before she surrendered herself completely.
The room was silent. It couldn't have been more still if someone had cast a silencing and immobilising charm. Harry blinked. Then blinked again. The image still played before him. Ron opened and closed his mouth several times, but no sound came out.
"Well..." Harry was saved from any further conversational attempt by the entrance of Arthur Weasley.
"Boys!" he greeted them jovially. Receiving no reply, he took in their expressions and saw Ron shakily back into a chair, his face a strange strawberry/cream mixture, a look of comic tragedy on his face.
"Ah. You've seen this month's shot then I take it."
Harry nodded dumbly.
"Quite something, isn't it? Ron?"
Ron opened his mouth again and this time succeeded in creating a squeak.
"She's...oh, bloody hell, she's going to kill me!"
Arthur looked baffled. Harry shrugged, signalling his confusion.
"Who, Ron?"
"McBloodyGonagall!" he groaned loudly then and covered his face with his hands. "'tgetawayfromitandshe'shottoo!"
Harry snorted.
"I think, Mr. Weasley, that your son is slightly perturbed and horrified at seeing Minerva McGonagall naked and finding that she is actually attractive. Add to that Hermione, and Minerva's jokingly issued threat, and it's sensory overload, I think."
"Ah."
Ron nodded dumbly. Harry handed him a chocolate bar after tearing off a chunk for himself.
"It can't be right! I mean, they're both really bloody attractive!"
"Always the tone of surprise, Ronald."
Hermione's arrival had gone unnoticed until now. Harry and Arthur jumped, and Ron choked on his chocolate.
She shared a smile with Harry, who couldn't help but blush.
"Minerva's outside." She said. "Is it safe for her to come in?"
Ron turned scarlet and even Arthur looked away.
"Does she have to?" Ron whined, his eyes pleading. "Can't she wait until...maybe...July?"
"That's Ginny!" Hermione said brightly. Ron and Arthur groaned and visibly paled, as Harry begged his body not to blush.
"Minerva!" he hurriedly called. "Come on in!"
July 1999 – Ginevra Weasley, Order of the Phoenix, Order of Merlin 3rd Class (1998) Battle of Hogwarts Honour
"Wow." Harry breathed. He had eagerly flipped the page of his calendar, knowing that his girlfriend was up next. His eyes sparkled as he watched her sunbathe, then elegantly, if a little mischievously, dive into the lake. He watched her splash about, laughing, and couldn't stop his smile from spreading.
"Jealous of the Giant Squid, Potter?"
Harry jumped a mile at the resounding boom of the voice.
"Kingsley! Yes...I mean no...er..."
Kingsley laughed, tapping Harry on the back.
"Your girlfriend, Harry...she got style. Just don't let Mr. Weasley catch you ogling, hm?"
"Which one?"
"Does it matter?"
Harry gulped audibly and quickly settled the calendar back on the wall of the auror office he also shared with Ron. It was probably best for diplomatic relations if he kept his back to it as much as possible, he thought.
August 1999 – Mrs. Molly Weasley, Order of the Phoenix, Order of Merlin 1st Class (1998), Battle of Hogwarts Honour
"You're mum has lovely buns, Ron."
Ron turned to glower at Luna, and was about to retort, when she carried on, offering the plate to him.
"I mean, she gets the texture and the consistency just right...don't you think?"
Harry and Ginny tried unsuccessfully to smother their grins.
"Ye Luna, whatever. Can we not talk about my mother's buns at all, please? Floaty light or otherwise. Not today. Not the rest of the month. Not ever would be good. I've heard enough today to last a lifetime."
They heard a faint pop and within seconds Arthur had appeared in the doorway.
"Ah, hello everyone! And where is my darling wife?"
At the sound of his voice, Molly appeared almost instantaneously, giving him a warm peck on the cheek.
"I had the pleasure of bumping into Rolanda Hooch earlier on during my dealings with a rogue broomstick and a rather unfortunate rear end of a muggle...she informs me that she had immense fun touching up your buns." He raised his eyebrows as the children looked on, shocked.
"I bloody well knew it!" Ron hissed to Harry. "What did I tell you...the whole world, turned gay!"
Molly laughed and pulled her husband close enough to wiggle her body against his.
"You are the only toucher my buns perk up for."
Harry and Ginny couldn't stay shocked for long; Ron's face begged to be laughed at.
September 1999 – Professor Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress, Hogwarts, Transfiguration Master, Order of the Phoenix, Order of Merlin, 1st Class (1998) Battle of Hogwarts Honour
Minerva McGonagall sat in the Great Hall at dinner time on the 1st of September, and tried to ignore all the furtive glances that she was receiving. She had had to suppress a laugh when an enormous amount of first years turned slack-jawed upon realising that the esteemed Professor McGonagall that they had all heard so much about, and the nude woman in the calendar, were the very same. However, after having to almost physically move the students that hadn't been sorted into Gryffindor, and now dealing with the rest of the school discussing her, she had had enough. She was just about to leave the staff table when her owl came swooping into the hall and landed elegantly on her arm that had outstretched almost unconsciously. She grabbed the parchment, noting with intrigue the official ministry seal, fed the bird a scrap of meat, and waited until most of the attention that she could hope for had left her before opening it.
Dear Professor McGonagall,
I must first congratulate you once again on the success of this calendar, but particularly this month. I am writing to inform you that as of nine am this morning, we have received no less than 200 applications from witches and wizards of various ages and talent to begin animagus training.
Coincidence, you may think; however let me enlighten you as to how many applicants we have had in total since your own training ended (I trust I don't need to remind you of how many years ago). 10, Professor. 10 applicants in all those years.
Personally, I am glad that more of our community are taking an interest in furthering their abilities, however I am informed that at least one applicant comes under the following; underage; Squib; under qualified; criminal record.
I apologise for having to resort to this, Minerva, however I have little option; the faculty assigned to deal with this are threatening mass walkout as more owls are arriving every hour. Therefore, I must inform you that all correspondence relating to 'animagus' is being rerouted to your office. Anything you deem of relevance you can forward to us at the ministry...anything else is yours to respond to.
Kind Regards,
Kingsley Shacklebolt,
Minister for Magic
Minerva snorted, earning her the attention of several members of staff.
"Fan mail?" Rolanda asked over Flitwick's head. "I've had plenty."
"In a manner of speaking." Minerva answered as she folded the letter into her robes.
"Can't say I blame them." Flitwick muttered, spooning potato onto his plate. He looked up when the table went quiet, not realising he'd spoken aloud until he took in Rolanda and Minerva's raised eyebrows. "Yes, well, I mean, it's only right to show one's appreciation of fundraisers, isn't it?"
"Quite." Minerva stated, dispelling the staff's curious glances, and halting what was bound to have been an inappropriate comment by Rolanda.
"Wow." Never normally at a loss for words, Hermione had to settle for using one she normally dismissed as overused. She stood in the entrance to Minerva's office, the normally neat desk buried under at least 10 precariously balanced piles of letters, with more on the floor.
"Hermione, thank goodness."
"Minerva?"
Minerva's exasperated face popped up in between two piles.
"Thanks to my month of the calendar, it seems that half the Wizard population want to become animagus; and the other half...well, suffice it to say they are appreciative of my moves and would like to see more." She wrinkled her nose in disgust. "I would appreciate some help?"
Hermione smiled as she pulled up a chair on the other side of the desk. She skimmed through several letters and her snorts descended into outright laughter.
"You won't feel like that after another half hour." Minerva said darkly as her quill scratched rather violently into one reply.
Half hour later and Hermione had to agree.
"How's this reply?
Mr. Zeckowski,
I understand that you went to a lot of effort to procure the calendar, what with being recently released from Azkaban and whatnot, however I must inform you, with no amount of regret, that no, Professor McGonagall is most definitely not available for personal tuition or indeed personal performances, especially not for you. It takes an extraordinary amount of self-discipline and control before even contemplating becoming an animagus, attributes which, by the sheer tone of your letter, it is obvious that you do not possess. And if you write again, or even voice your thoughts on what, exactly, Professor McGonagall should 'not' wear next and with whom, then I can assure you that you will be back in Azkaban in a full body bind curse before you can even blink.
Yours threateningly,
Hermione Granger."
Minerva tried to contain her mirth.
"Perhaps a little too hostile, do you not think?"
"Hostile? Some of these people are downright perverse!"
"Mmm, so I've noticed. Amazing the things that people seem to think they can do with catnip, honestly. "We could go wild together; I could be your kitten...shall I continue?"
Hermione pulled a face as she left her chair and rounded the desk.
"We'll send a universal reply: Minerva McGonagall shall not be teaching anyone the finer points of animagi...and Hermione Granger is the only one that she is wild for. Kind Regards...Herminerva."
Minerva laughed as she grabbed Hermione and pulled her down for a kiss.
"It works for me. However, the letters were addressed to the ministry; it's only fair that people receive a reply signed from them, don't you think?"
October 1999 – Hermione Granger, Order of the Phoenix, Order of Merlin 1st Class (1998), Battle of Hogwarts Honour
"Hermione got a letter!" Ginny squealed as she peered over Hermione's shoulder in The Three Broomsticks. Hermione held it out of her reach, but Madam Rosmerta appeared and snatched it away.
"Dear Ms. Granger," she read, her twinkling eyes making sure she had the attention of everyone gathered; Hermione, Ginny, Minerva, Ron, Harry, Neville, Luna, Molly and George. "I am currently ensconced in a rather dilapidated wing of Her Majesty's Prison Stafford, awaiting rescue by the ministry (I would be grateful for any assistance you could offer in this matter; although perhaps I would be better off writing to your other half, who seems more influential-"
"Other half?" Hermione huffed. "I am a whole person, thank you."
"I think he meant to write 'better half' anyway, considering his 'more influential' statement..." George trailed off as he was confronted by fierce glares. "Not ready to joke about it yet, then."
"Anyhow, I am writing to tell you how very impressed I was with the sheer size of your-" Rosmerta stopped abruptly, unwilling to continue after having seen the thunderous look on Minerva's face.
"Of?" Ginny prompted, even as Ron violently shook his head.
"Of your Gryffindor scarf." Rosmerta said hurriedly, shoving the letter back into Hermione's hands.
For various reasons, the group simultaneously took hefty swallows of their drinks.
"So, Prof...Is Hermione's Gryffindor scarf really all that impressive?" George asked.
Molly shoved him in the ribs as Neville and Ron both turned bright red.
"The scarf was rather long, wasn't it? Although I'm sure that's not what you're really enquiring about." Luna said seriously.
Minerva's mouth twitched.
"I daresay it's not, Miss Lovegood. Hermione's scarf is something that I shall not be discussing in company...civilized or otherwise."
"I was hoping to influence people's intellect with the scene, not their libido's." Hermione grumbled.
Ginny opened her mouth, but just then the fire that they were sat next to burst into life and the flames morphed into a lioness, flames licking and snarling at the occupants of the table. When it dissipated, Minerva, Hermione and Luna were the only ones still seated where they had started. George had been pulled practically on his mother's lap; Harry had Ginny in a protective headlock and Neville and Ron were rather embarrassed to find themselves clinging on to each other. Minerva smiled satisfactorily. Molly huffed, exasperated.
"Blimey, Minerva, you're going to be the death of me!"
"Yes well," Ron said, dislodging himself from Neville with a rather awkward manly pat on the back, "I think it signalled end of discussion. No need to talk about the calendar anymore...that right, Prof...Minerva?"
Even though the comment was borne from sheer embarrassment on his behalf, Hermione beamed at him. Minerva smiled softly.
"Quite right, Ronald."
He smiled, relieved, until Minerva added with a wink.
"There is only one place that this lioness should be heard roaring, and it is most certainly not here."
Even Luna smiled at his reaction.
November 1999 – Madam Poppy Pomfrey, Mediwitch, Battle of Hogwarts Honour
"Minerva! Minerva!"
Minerva whipped around at the sound of her name being shrieked down the corridor.
"Poppy, what on earth is wrong with you?"
Poppy eventually caught up with Minerva and, panting, thrust a copy of the calendar right under her nose.
"LOOK. At. That. RACK!"
Minerva gaped at Poppy, and whirled about to check the corridor for students.
"Poppy really! You've seen it before. I rarely stoop to using student-isms, but you have got to get a grip!"
Poppy grinned wickedly.
"Oh, believe me, my good friend; someone will be getting a grip of something the next time I get a break from this place. Have you seen me? I think I'm a new woman!" and without another word to Minerva, Poppy began to trot away again, vaguely muttering about Rolanda and running for money. Minerva shook her head. Sometimes she wondered if she really was the only pillar of sanity left.
December 1999 - everyone
"Bloody hell!" George exclaimed at the same time that Ron opened his mouth. "Oh, look, I'm a ventriloquist!"
At that moment, Arthur entered the kitchen of The Burrow.
"Dad! Have you seen this? Mum actually had a food fight. As in, used food. Her food, in a fight."
"Don't remind me." he said darkly. "I had to eat stuffing for weeks after that; she got it into her head that it wasn't tasty enough, and that's why she hadn't minded. As if I'd tell her it was anything less than perfect anyway, given past experiences!"
Ron caught his father's eye and they shared a sympathetic look.
"What do you think of it?"
"I think it's sweet, and very...normal." Ron said with more than a trace of relief. At the odd looks he received, he shrugged his shoulders and crossed his arms defensively.
"What? It's Christmassy! And...just...you know..."
"Less naked?" Harry prompted.
"Yes!"
"So we're unattractive?" Molly asked, appearing suddenly, as people were prone to do upon awkward moments of discussion involving them.
"WHa-no!" Ron hastily protested. "I mean, you're not attractive, you're my mother; it...oh, balls to it." he folded his arms tighter across his chest and sat down by The Burrow's dinner table with a huff.
"That's what she said!" Ginny giggled, pointing at Rolanda, whose figure was streaking about trying to hit anything with her flying baubles.
"Goodness!" Neville exclaimed as he and Hermione stood in the Herbology office, looking at his calendar. "Was Professor Trelawney quite safe up there?"
Hermione thought back to the events of that day and smiled fondly. "Safer than she would have been on two feet, I daresay. That's why we had Poppy sat down quietly too...well, initially." She amended, as within the image the food as well as Sybil began to fly.
"It looks like you thoroughly enjoyed...I sometimes wish I could have joined in." Neville said, smiling. Hermione laughed, and then abruptly stopped. It was as if a light bulb had snapped on in her head.
"Neville," she began, a predatory smile beginning, matching the glint in her eye. "Neville, Neville, Neville..."
He started to back away, holding his hands up frantically waving.
"No, I I didn't mean...no no no..."
But Hermione continued to advance on him, with a menace that both Minerva and Snape would be proud of.
She would have a men's calendar sorted by Christmas Day, she was sure.