A/N: I haven't written anything in ages because of my A-levels, and I apologise for not finding time for writing, but please don't be too cruel; I'm a little rusty!

Memos

Albus, help.

What's the matter?

I think I just punched someone in the face.

You think?

I don't know.

How can you not know whether or not you caused somebody actual bodily harm?

It was a… sort of… blur…

You know, many murderers use that statement as defence in trial.

I don't even want to know why you stored that piece of information in your brain rather than the ability to choose a subdued outfit for a serious occasion.

There is no room for black in a wardrobe as distinguished as mine!

I still say that a Hawaiian floral print is entirely inappropriate for a funeral.

Anna-Marie said she didn't want anyone to grieve over her death, Minerva, but to celebrate her life.

Yes, but you needn't have looked like you were enjoying it quite so much.

Spoil sport.

…

Besides, we are not discussing my (fabulous) choice of clothes! We are questioning how you can be so stupid as to not be certain about punching someone.

If I told you who it was, you would understand.

You can't go around be violent just because you dislike them.

It was that horrible git I used to work with at the Ministry.

You're going to have to be more specific than that, dear. There are quite a few, what you call, "horrible gits" working at the Ministry.

Ludo Bloody Bagman.

But… he worked in a different department to you, didn't he?

And I work on a different floor of the school to you, but we still know each other, don't we?

Point taken.

Oh, Merlin. What have I done?

You've punched Ludo Bagman.

Shut up, Albus!

But you asked…

…

You've brought this on yourself, you know.

I know.

Ten points from Gryffindor.

You can't do that!

I am your superior, young lady.

But, Prof- I mean… ALBUS! I'm not at school any more.

But you are here.

I am not a student.

How can the students follow the path of a woman who goes around punching people for no apparent reason?

Oh, there was a reason.

I am waiting.

You sound like my father.

Oh, I bet you say that to all the men.

That was not a compliment.

But your father did have a fine beard.

Yours is not as fine as his.

Ten more points from Gryffindor.

Sigh.

Now, are you going to tell me why you punched a former Quidditch star or can I go and eat the chocolate pudding that has been calling to me all day?

You'll rot your teeth!

I take it that you won't tell me, then. Good evening, Minerva.

Fine.

You'll tell me?

Yes.

Everything?

Yes.

Every gory little detail?

I didn't exactly count how many drops of blood fell from his nose.

You made him bleed?

I have a mean right hook.

I shall bear that in mind.

You see, since I've known him, he's been forever bragging about his skills on the pitch –

That sounds like –

It's not innuendo.

More's the pity.

Anyway, he is forever bragging about his abilities –

Still sounds like –

It's NOT innuendo!

Alright.

He's always saying that he is amazing at –

At -

AT QUIDDITCH!

Well, he was a professional…

I don't brag about being an amazing teacher, though.

No, dear, not every day.

But just because you are good about something, doesn't mean you can go rubbing it in people's faces. Besides, we all know that I could have gone professional if I'd had the mind to.

Of course. Star chaser, our little Minerva.

Well, he finally got the better of me with his misogynistic implications that women are worse at Quidditch than men.

So you punched him? Good on you.

Oh no, I didn't punch him straight away. I challenged him to a one-on-one match –

I –

NOT INNUENDO!

No need to shout.

I challenged him to a one-on-one match.

And you punched him because you lost?

No, I won.

Then why did you punch him?

Because he said I'd cheated and refused to shake my hand.

And had you cheated?

How low are your opinions of me?

Higher than most. Did you cheat, though?

No.

So why did you punch him?

I challenged him to a drinking match, in return.

And he agreed? Fool!

Exactly.

Are we getting anywhere near the part of the story where you cause a man to bleed from his face?

You cannot rush art, Albus.

Don't get ahead of yourself, my dear. You won't be able to get your head through the door.

Well, we had the drinking contest, which I won (as if there was any doubt in your mind).

Not something to be proud of.

Let's agree to disagree. After the contest, he still tried to accuse me of cheating by casting some kind of inebriation hex on him.

And that hurt your dignity, causing you to lash out in frustration.

No.

Am I still going to be alive at the end of this story?

Not if I come up there and kill you before I finish it.

I'll be quiet.

Good. To cut a long story short, he came on to me and I punched him.

You have got to stop doing that!

Sorry, it's a natural defence mechanism.

You're sure he was making a pass at you?

He commented on the length of my dress and the way I looked during the Quidditch match.

I'm proud of you.

Really?

Yes. You stood up for yourself.

That's all? Not telling-off? No chastising?

No.

…

Only because I know, one day, you'll end up dancing the tango with him in front of an embarrassing number of people.

What do you mean?

You always end up doing things like that with people you hate.

I've never once done something like that with you.

Yes, but, you love – wait…