Epilogue

The evening had gone surprisingly smoothly thus far.

The students — and the staff — had behaved well and seemed to be enjoying themselves, and no last-minute misfortunes had thus far befallen Harry Potter. (Unless one counted his embarrassing opening dance with Miss Patil.)

Albus made his way to the side of the stage and gestured to the Weird Sisters' lead singer, who nodded his acknowledgement.

The band launched into the last tune of the night, a more sedate offering than their usual teeth-clenching fare, as Albus had arranged.

Minerva stood on the outskirts of the dance floor, eyes moving over the dancing couples, alert for any transgressions against propriety. Albus moved quietly up behind her and leant over to whisper in her ear.

"May I have the honour of a dance, Professor McGonagall?"

She turned to him with a smile. "Of course, Professor Dumbledore. It would be a pleasure."

He led her onto the floor and took her by the waist. Her hand went to his shoulder, and they began to move together.

He felt a bit like their teenaged charges. He'd been looking forward to this all evening, the rare opportunity to touch her in public. They were close but kept a respectable enough distance from one another, and his hand never strayed from its sanctioned place, but it felt forbidden — erotic, almost, to be doing this under everyone's noses.

None of the other couples paid them any attention. The remaining students swayed tiredly, worn out by the faster-paced dancing that had preceded this final number. Argus and Irma were the only other staff still on the dance floor; the rest were inching their separate ways towards the doors, eager to call it a night.

Albus had no such intentions. After the students were safely put away in their dormitories, he planned to join Minerva in her bed, as he'd been doing on weekend nights for the past five years.

Once there, he planned to make love to her, something which didn't happen every time, but which they did when the spirit moved them. It had been an all-too-rare occurrence during this hectic term.

From the beginning of their physical relationship, she'd been both patient and forthright in showing him what she enjoyed, and he'd been happy to find he could please her, even if it didn't always result in orgasm for him. In public, she was arch, sometimes sharp, and almost always guarded, but with him in private, she allowed herself some softness and openness, and the contrast excited him.

That was what he enjoyed most about their intimacy. Not that he didn't like the sensations of lovemaking, but unlike her, he found it difficult to let go and allow himself that vulnerability. That she could, sometimes overwhelmed him with gratitude.

Though they made love infrequently, they almost always fell asleep touching — fingers entwined or a hand on a chest. It was how he had come to think of them in private — connected, even if subtly.

Tonight, he thought as they moved around the floor, they would renew that connection more wholly. He'd stashed a potion in her bathroom earlier that day, which would ensure his body would cooperate with his plans to give himself to her as fully as he was able.

"Have you managed to enjoy yourself at all?" he asked her.

"It became more tolerable once Ludo buggered off."

"He did rather monopolise your dance card. Were you able to have a turn with anyone else?"

"Hagrid."

"And did your toes survive?"

"Barely." She squeezed his shoulder. "This is much nicer."

"I should hope so. I've been told I'm a rather good dancer."

"You are a marvellous dancer."

He pulled her a bit closer under cover of the enchanted ceiling, which had begun dimming a few minutes earlier to signal the winding down of the Yule Ball.

"It seems I've finally found the right partner."


Copyright © 2024 by Squibstress.

This work of fiction is based on characters and settings created by J. K. Rowling. All recognisable characters, settings, and plot elements are copyright © J. K. Rowling.

The author believes this work falls within the scope of the Fair Use Doctrine as a transformative work. For more information, see the Organization for Transformative Works.

All original characters, settings, and plot elements are copyright © Squibstress.

This work of fiction is available for use under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International(CC BY-NC-SA 4.0) licence.

Lyrics from "Being Alive", words and music by Stephen Sondheim © 1970 (renewed) Herald Square Music Inc.

Line from Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows by J. K. Rowling © 2007 Bloomsbury.

Squibstress

Publisher's Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author's imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

Fools Rush In/ Squibstress. - 1st ed.
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