Post by furandfeathers on Jan 5, 2010 23:03:28 GMT -5
Oh, the rust. I've got a very thick layer of it still.
Title: How Clever
Rating: K
Genre: Fluff
Disclaimer: Not mine. If it was, I'd have much less stress in my life.
Minerva hated the last day of classes before the students went home for the holidays. She never got anything accomplished because even the older students, who were supposedly more mature, were so excited for the vacation that they were just as prone to random acts of cheerful stupidity as the younger children. Deep down, Minerva really was as soft as Albus and, as much as she threatened, she never handed out detentions right before the holidays.
After her last class full of unwanted mistletoe, and worse, tinsel, she made her way to Albus’ office. She didn’t bother knocking when she reached the top of the spiral staircase, because she knew that he wouldn’t hear her over the Christmas carols that he was blasting. Albus had recently discovered the muggle band Trans Siberian Orchestra and she opened the door to the roar of Carol of the Bells.
She stopped short just inside the door. Minerva had not expected to find Albus dancing around his office waving his wand as if he was conducting the orchestra himself. She had to laugh a little at that, which drew his attention to her. His face turned a little red at the embarrassment of being caught, but then he smiled and crossed the room to stand in front of her.
“Hello, my dear,” he said, lowering the carols to a reasonable volume with his wand.
“Hello, Albus,” she said coming in and flopping down into the armchair in front of the fire.
“Rough day?” he asked, moving to sit on the arm of her chair. He reached out and pulled a few strands of tinsel out of her hair.
“You could say that,” she said grumpily. “Children simply cannot be taught when they’re sugared up like this. They were turning quills into mistletoe, and goblets into little Saint Nicks that were walking around the desktops shouting ‘ho ho ho’!”
“How clever!” Albus cried. Minerva turned to him with a glare. “Well perhaps they shouldn’t be doing that in class,” he amended quickly.
“They most certainly shouldn’t,” Minerva said fiercely.
“It’s all right,” he soothed, running a hand lightly over her hair. “They’ve all gone for the holidays. Well, most of them anyway, and you don’t have to try to teach anything to the ones that have remained.”
Minerva sighed. “You’re right, as usual. Thank you, Albus.”
“Anytime, my dear,” he said softly.
Minerva stood up, preparing to leave. “I have some papers to grade, Albus. I’ll see you in the morning. Good night.”
“Good night.” Albus replied. He stared at the door long after she had closed it behind her. He had wanted to take her in his arms, take her stress away, tell her that he loved her. But, once again, he had been a coward. Albus sighed, and turned to stare into the fire. He had to tell her, he just had to.
Two days later, Minerva woke to the sound of someone knocking on her door. She assumed that it was Albus; he was worse than most children when it came to Christmas morning, and he never let her sleep past 7am. Rolling out of bed and pulling on a dressing gown, Minerva went to open the door.
The corridor outside her door was empty. Puzzled, she looked up and down the hall, searching for the person who had been insistently knocking just a few seconds earlier. A flash of red near the ground caught her eye, and when she looked down, Minerva saw a tiny little St Nicholas, only a few inches high. He was dressed in full medieval costume, and she thought that he looked a bit like Albus. She took a step back, and the little man walked into her room. She almost shut the door on it, thinking that one of the children was trying to annoy her with a joke, but something made her wait a moment.
The little man moved to stand in front of her and then it began to speak.
“Minerva,” it said, and she was startled to hear a very familiar voice coming from the little man’s mouth. “There is something that I have been meaning to tell you for some time now, but I’ve never been sure of the best way to say it. I’m not sure that this is the best way either, but I will give it a try.”
The animated St Nicholas took a deep breath, in much the same way that Albus had when he was recording his message. “Minerva, I love you. I will understand if you don’t return my feelings, and I hope that this will not affect our friendship, as I would hate to lose you altogether, but this is not something that I could keep to myself any longer. Merry Christmas, my dear.”
St Nicholas stopped speaking, and seemed to return to his previous knick-knack state. Minerva stood staring at him for a few moments, processing what she had just heard, then she took off running through the castle towards the stone gargoyle.
Albus was nervously pacing his office when Minerva burst through the door, through her arms around his neck and kissed him.
“Am I dreaming?” he asked when they pulled apart.
“Definitely not.” She told him. “I love you too, Albus. Merry Christmas.”
“I’m quite certain it will be,” he said softly, then pulled her close again.
Title: How Clever
Rating: K
Genre: Fluff
Disclaimer: Not mine. If it was, I'd have much less stress in my life.
Minerva hated the last day of classes before the students went home for the holidays. She never got anything accomplished because even the older students, who were supposedly more mature, were so excited for the vacation that they were just as prone to random acts of cheerful stupidity as the younger children. Deep down, Minerva really was as soft as Albus and, as much as she threatened, she never handed out detentions right before the holidays.
After her last class full of unwanted mistletoe, and worse, tinsel, she made her way to Albus’ office. She didn’t bother knocking when she reached the top of the spiral staircase, because she knew that he wouldn’t hear her over the Christmas carols that he was blasting. Albus had recently discovered the muggle band Trans Siberian Orchestra and she opened the door to the roar of Carol of the Bells.
She stopped short just inside the door. Minerva had not expected to find Albus dancing around his office waving his wand as if he was conducting the orchestra himself. She had to laugh a little at that, which drew his attention to her. His face turned a little red at the embarrassment of being caught, but then he smiled and crossed the room to stand in front of her.
“Hello, my dear,” he said, lowering the carols to a reasonable volume with his wand.
“Hello, Albus,” she said coming in and flopping down into the armchair in front of the fire.
“Rough day?” he asked, moving to sit on the arm of her chair. He reached out and pulled a few strands of tinsel out of her hair.
“You could say that,” she said grumpily. “Children simply cannot be taught when they’re sugared up like this. They were turning quills into mistletoe, and goblets into little Saint Nicks that were walking around the desktops shouting ‘ho ho ho’!”
“How clever!” Albus cried. Minerva turned to him with a glare. “Well perhaps they shouldn’t be doing that in class,” he amended quickly.
“They most certainly shouldn’t,” Minerva said fiercely.
“It’s all right,” he soothed, running a hand lightly over her hair. “They’ve all gone for the holidays. Well, most of them anyway, and you don’t have to try to teach anything to the ones that have remained.”
Minerva sighed. “You’re right, as usual. Thank you, Albus.”
“Anytime, my dear,” he said softly.
Minerva stood up, preparing to leave. “I have some papers to grade, Albus. I’ll see you in the morning. Good night.”
“Good night.” Albus replied. He stared at the door long after she had closed it behind her. He had wanted to take her in his arms, take her stress away, tell her that he loved her. But, once again, he had been a coward. Albus sighed, and turned to stare into the fire. He had to tell her, he just had to.
Two days later, Minerva woke to the sound of someone knocking on her door. She assumed that it was Albus; he was worse than most children when it came to Christmas morning, and he never let her sleep past 7am. Rolling out of bed and pulling on a dressing gown, Minerva went to open the door.
The corridor outside her door was empty. Puzzled, she looked up and down the hall, searching for the person who had been insistently knocking just a few seconds earlier. A flash of red near the ground caught her eye, and when she looked down, Minerva saw a tiny little St Nicholas, only a few inches high. He was dressed in full medieval costume, and she thought that he looked a bit like Albus. She took a step back, and the little man walked into her room. She almost shut the door on it, thinking that one of the children was trying to annoy her with a joke, but something made her wait a moment.
The little man moved to stand in front of her and then it began to speak.
“Minerva,” it said, and she was startled to hear a very familiar voice coming from the little man’s mouth. “There is something that I have been meaning to tell you for some time now, but I’ve never been sure of the best way to say it. I’m not sure that this is the best way either, but I will give it a try.”
The animated St Nicholas took a deep breath, in much the same way that Albus had when he was recording his message. “Minerva, I love you. I will understand if you don’t return my feelings, and I hope that this will not affect our friendship, as I would hate to lose you altogether, but this is not something that I could keep to myself any longer. Merry Christmas, my dear.”
St Nicholas stopped speaking, and seemed to return to his previous knick-knack state. Minerva stood staring at him for a few moments, processing what she had just heard, then she took off running through the castle towards the stone gargoyle.
Albus was nervously pacing his office when Minerva burst through the door, through her arms around his neck and kissed him.
“Am I dreaming?” he asked when they pulled apart.
“Definitely not.” She told him. “I love you too, Albus. Merry Christmas.”
“I’m quite certain it will be,” he said softly, then pulled her close again.
