Hello and Fic
Sep. 29th, 2005 12:57 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
featherxquillHello All!
Greetings from Nambucca Heads internet cafe, where yours truly has been spending the week in greater and lesser states of drunkeness. My parents let me bring the rod into town all by myself - ooh, finally some respect for my driving ability.
Only here to read my comments and do some more research for my essay, so I'm not on chat. This costs ridicullously large amounts of money.
Anyway!
Shall be back soon, but until then, have a fic.
Title: Midnight Snack
Rating?genre: PG, humour, mostly.
Characters/Pairings: Minerva, Severus (implied Minerva/Hooch and Snape/Lucius)
Warn: HBP Spoilers
Summary: During Umbridge's reign of terror, two Heads of House take refuge in the kitchens at midnight. Some firewhiskey, food and a chat.
Minerva McGonagall glanced left and right, feeling like a naughty schoolgirl, tickled the pear and slipped through the gap behind the portrait into the kitchens. Blessed solitude. Somewhere that woman did not know how to access. Warm down here, in the depths of the castle, warm and relatively private.
“Isn't it past your bedtime, Minerva?” A voice, dripping with amused sarcasm. She whirled around.
“Severus.” She spoke as though she had just swallowed a lemon.
He looked out of place in the immaculately white kitchen, in his black robes, longer and more flowing than those he usually wore, hood thrown back. Beside him on the table, a white mask reflected the glare of the overhead gaslights. In one hand he held a large glass of firewhiskey that he could top up from the bottle perched beside it, in the other a sandwich so big that his fingers could barely grip it. "Marking, were you?"
She glanced at him. “Yes.”
“You should really get a life.”
She looked him up and down, pointedly taking in his attire and the discarded mask. “What, like yours?”
“Point taken.”
A house elf accosted her, and she sent it off for leftovers from the evening’s meal.
Severus arched a brow. “Did you miss dinner?”
“Mmm,” she murmured. “I’m assuming that means you did, too?”
“The Dark Lord doesn’t wait for one to finish one’s potatoes.”
“No.” She took a seat opposite him at the table. “We’d best be careful, though. If we both miss a few dinners, they’ll start whispering about our passionate love affair.”
Severus snorted indelicately into his glass. “And what would Xiomara say about that?”
Minerva chuckled. “The same thing she says every time Albus and I are rumoured to be ravishing each other between classes.”
“And what’s that?”
“Min, you minx, if you must, at least allow me to take some pictures so I can make some money selling them to Rita Skeeter.”
He snorted again. “Yes, because people are so interested in seeing old p… men… in flagrante delicto.” Her eyebrows had risen sharply at his near slip and his black eyes darted, glittering with guilt.
“Excuse me?” she asked with a smirk. “Old what? And just what appealing things do you and Lucius have that Xiomara and I do not?”
He conjured another glass for the whiskey through a chuckle and tipped a rather generous serving into it, then pushed it toward her. “Well, penises, for a start. Here, have this, you dried up old schoolmistress.”
“Penises are highly overrated.” She took the offered drink, swirled it; took a sip. “Thankyou; you greasy, insufferable bastard.”
“My pleasure.”
“So, how did it go?”
He rolled his shoulders. “Oh, same as usual. Theatrical, dark location; Crucio for being late; long winded oratory about the dirtiness of Mudbloods and muggles; Poppy muttering disapprovingly while casting healing spells; Albus offering me tea and lemon drops like I’d come to tell him what happened at the picnic I’d just been on. No useful information whatsoever.”
“Did you see Lucius?”
“Only briefly. Quick snog against a tree before apparating. Hardly enough. What about you? Any nights of unbridled passion lately? Let me live vicariously through you.”
She snorted. “You’ll be disappointed. The Umbitch woman is watching us all too closely. Wouldn’t want to give her any reason to write educational decree number five-hundred-and-thirty-nine: no homosexual relationships between staff members, would we?”
“I thought I heard some of my Slytherins wondering why you were in such a bad mood.”
“Me? I’m never in a bad mood.”
“Ha!”
“Should I tell you what some of my Gryffindors say about you, Mr Congeniality?”
“I’m sure it would amuse me greatly, but I doubt either of us want to be here all night.”
“I should puncture your Reputation by informing them that you’re not completely insufferable, all of the time.”
Mock outrage. “You wouldn’t dare! My Reputation is everything! And it’s all that’s keeping that woman off my back.”
“That and Filch speaking highly of you, no doubt. I think they’ve got a little bit of a thing going on.”
He shuddered. “Oh, thankyou, I needed that image. How on earth do you know about it?”
“Well, I’m not sure. Mrs Norris is incoherent at the best of times, but something’s got her spitting fur balls of late. I’m not fluent in cat – it’s rather difficult to learn, but it seems to me she rather fancies that she owns him, and she’s said a few things to me in some recent late night strolls that I’ve taken to mean as her regarding him stolen by the new witch in the castle.”
“You speak cat?”
“Well, of course. I’ve been an animagus for close on fifty years. It’s not something that one doesn’t pick up. A few of the things I’ve head about her, though – Umbridge, that is – they bother me a little. Do you think she’s working for him?”
He shook his head. “No. I think she’s just a blindly devoted, self righteous fool.”
The house elf pushed a plate in front of her, piled high with lamb, baked vegetables and an assortment of greens all smothered in gravy, apologised no less than three times for how long it had taken, then disappeared before Minerva could thank her. She speared a potato as Severus took a bite of his sandwich. “That same description would fit most Deatheaters.” She closed her eyes for a moment as the potato almost dissolved on her tongue, and her stomach give a loud growl of thanks as it went down.
Severus swallowed and smiled tightly. “True. It’s all a question of greater and lesser evils, isn’t it?” She nodded, but he seemed to have more to say on the subject. “I mean I’m right here in the thick of it. Albus brings love and light to the world, happiness to people’s lives, but he’s a manipulative old coot, and I have to wonder how many people’s happiness he’s sacrificed for his cause. The Dark Lord’s methods are… truly repulsive, and he is a repugnant human being, but one has to wonder if his fears aren’t justified. What do you think the muggles would do if their society as a whole found out we existed?”
She sliced up the lamb. “Burn us, probably, like they did in the dark ages. But one has to live one’s life by some creed, and ignorance and cruelty in response to ignorance and cruelty will not make enlightened, kind people. The muggles have a saying – ‘two wrongs don’t make a right’. I’ll live by that, and I think that’s what Albus is promoting.”
“Clearly, that’s why your parents named you after a goddess of wisdom and reason.” It was not like Severus to say things like that, but Minerva figured the whiskey had loosened his tongue.
She smiled. “Please. Reason hardly makes one wise. Albus is wise. It’s something that only comes with age. I’d be terrified if I had to make these decisions without him.”
“So would I.” He confided.
Silence fell on them for a time, as Severus took the monstrous sandwich in two hands and began a serious assault on it, and Minerva took a catlike pleasure in the devouring of her meat in tiny pieces that she prodded at before she ate.
“Do you love him?” Minerva had spoken before the thoughts were even fully formed in her mind, and regretted it instantly, watching Severus nearly choke on a mouthful of food. He coughed a little, and regained himself. “I’m sorry, I just... Sorry. But what will you do, in the end, when it comes to the final battle, and the man you love is standing by You-Know-Who’s right hand. He believes all the theatrical oratory, and he thinks you do, too. What are you going to do, Severus?” It wasn’t an accusation or a demand; she could hear the own pain in her voice. She knew well how powerful love was, and how uncompromising. If there came a time when she had to choose between loyalty and her Xiomara… the very thought made her ache with dread.
He closed his eyes for a moment, as if he didn’t want her to see what was in them. When he opened them again, she thought it must have been a trick of the light, because for a moment they seemed too damp to belong to him.
“I don’t know, Minerva. I honestly don’t know.”
~*~
Headmistress Minerva McGonagall twisted her hands together for the fifth time in as many minutes, watching the rise and fall of the sleeping portrait-Albus’ chest, and just let the tears fall.
How am I supposed to know, Albus? How am I supposed to do this on my own? I have the reason, but not the wisdom. I have the intelligence, but not the faith. Why won’t you wake up and tell me everything will be okay?
She turned her face to the window, and could see Hagrid’s hut still burning like a beacon in the night. What was this? A plan? Severus’ final act of loyalty, like she wanted to believe, or the triumph of love, and the cold-blooded killing of the most brilliant man she had ever known?
Loyalty or love? Wisdom or reason? She had to be her own Goddess now.
Greetings from Nambucca Heads internet cafe, where yours truly has been spending the week in greater and lesser states of drunkeness. My parents let me bring the rod into town all by myself - ooh, finally some respect for my driving ability.
Only here to read my comments and do some more research for my essay, so I'm not on chat. This costs ridicullously large amounts of money.
Anyway!
Shall be back soon, but until then, have a fic.
Title: Midnight Snack
Rating?genre: PG, humour, mostly.
Characters/Pairings: Minerva, Severus (implied Minerva/Hooch and Snape/Lucius)
Warn: HBP Spoilers
Summary: During Umbridge's reign of terror, two Heads of House take refuge in the kitchens at midnight. Some firewhiskey, food and a chat.
Minerva McGonagall glanced left and right, feeling like a naughty schoolgirl, tickled the pear and slipped through the gap behind the portrait into the kitchens. Blessed solitude. Somewhere that woman did not know how to access. Warm down here, in the depths of the castle, warm and relatively private.
“Isn't it past your bedtime, Minerva?” A voice, dripping with amused sarcasm. She whirled around.
“Severus.” She spoke as though she had just swallowed a lemon.
He looked out of place in the immaculately white kitchen, in his black robes, longer and more flowing than those he usually wore, hood thrown back. Beside him on the table, a white mask reflected the glare of the overhead gaslights. In one hand he held a large glass of firewhiskey that he could top up from the bottle perched beside it, in the other a sandwich so big that his fingers could barely grip it. "Marking, were you?"
She glanced at him. “Yes.”
“You should really get a life.”
She looked him up and down, pointedly taking in his attire and the discarded mask. “What, like yours?”
“Point taken.”
A house elf accosted her, and she sent it off for leftovers from the evening’s meal.
Severus arched a brow. “Did you miss dinner?”
“Mmm,” she murmured. “I’m assuming that means you did, too?”
“The Dark Lord doesn’t wait for one to finish one’s potatoes.”
“No.” She took a seat opposite him at the table. “We’d best be careful, though. If we both miss a few dinners, they’ll start whispering about our passionate love affair.”
Severus snorted indelicately into his glass. “And what would Xiomara say about that?”
Minerva chuckled. “The same thing she says every time Albus and I are rumoured to be ravishing each other between classes.”
“And what’s that?”
“Min, you minx, if you must, at least allow me to take some pictures so I can make some money selling them to Rita Skeeter.”
He snorted again. “Yes, because people are so interested in seeing old p… men… in flagrante delicto.” Her eyebrows had risen sharply at his near slip and his black eyes darted, glittering with guilt.
“Excuse me?” she asked with a smirk. “Old what? And just what appealing things do you and Lucius have that Xiomara and I do not?”
He conjured another glass for the whiskey through a chuckle and tipped a rather generous serving into it, then pushed it toward her. “Well, penises, for a start. Here, have this, you dried up old schoolmistress.”
“Penises are highly overrated.” She took the offered drink, swirled it; took a sip. “Thankyou; you greasy, insufferable bastard.”
“My pleasure.”
“So, how did it go?”
He rolled his shoulders. “Oh, same as usual. Theatrical, dark location; Crucio for being late; long winded oratory about the dirtiness of Mudbloods and muggles; Poppy muttering disapprovingly while casting healing spells; Albus offering me tea and lemon drops like I’d come to tell him what happened at the picnic I’d just been on. No useful information whatsoever.”
“Did you see Lucius?”
“Only briefly. Quick snog against a tree before apparating. Hardly enough. What about you? Any nights of unbridled passion lately? Let me live vicariously through you.”
She snorted. “You’ll be disappointed. The Umbitch woman is watching us all too closely. Wouldn’t want to give her any reason to write educational decree number five-hundred-and-thirty-nine: no homosexual relationships between staff members, would we?”
“I thought I heard some of my Slytherins wondering why you were in such a bad mood.”
“Me? I’m never in a bad mood.”
“Ha!”
“Should I tell you what some of my Gryffindors say about you, Mr Congeniality?”
“I’m sure it would amuse me greatly, but I doubt either of us want to be here all night.”
“I should puncture your Reputation by informing them that you’re not completely insufferable, all of the time.”
Mock outrage. “You wouldn’t dare! My Reputation is everything! And it’s all that’s keeping that woman off my back.”
“That and Filch speaking highly of you, no doubt. I think they’ve got a little bit of a thing going on.”
He shuddered. “Oh, thankyou, I needed that image. How on earth do you know about it?”
“Well, I’m not sure. Mrs Norris is incoherent at the best of times, but something’s got her spitting fur balls of late. I’m not fluent in cat – it’s rather difficult to learn, but it seems to me she rather fancies that she owns him, and she’s said a few things to me in some recent late night strolls that I’ve taken to mean as her regarding him stolen by the new witch in the castle.”
“You speak cat?”
“Well, of course. I’ve been an animagus for close on fifty years. It’s not something that one doesn’t pick up. A few of the things I’ve head about her, though – Umbridge, that is – they bother me a little. Do you think she’s working for him?”
He shook his head. “No. I think she’s just a blindly devoted, self righteous fool.”
The house elf pushed a plate in front of her, piled high with lamb, baked vegetables and an assortment of greens all smothered in gravy, apologised no less than three times for how long it had taken, then disappeared before Minerva could thank her. She speared a potato as Severus took a bite of his sandwich. “That same description would fit most Deatheaters.” She closed her eyes for a moment as the potato almost dissolved on her tongue, and her stomach give a loud growl of thanks as it went down.
Severus swallowed and smiled tightly. “True. It’s all a question of greater and lesser evils, isn’t it?” She nodded, but he seemed to have more to say on the subject. “I mean I’m right here in the thick of it. Albus brings love and light to the world, happiness to people’s lives, but he’s a manipulative old coot, and I have to wonder how many people’s happiness he’s sacrificed for his cause. The Dark Lord’s methods are… truly repulsive, and he is a repugnant human being, but one has to wonder if his fears aren’t justified. What do you think the muggles would do if their society as a whole found out we existed?”
She sliced up the lamb. “Burn us, probably, like they did in the dark ages. But one has to live one’s life by some creed, and ignorance and cruelty in response to ignorance and cruelty will not make enlightened, kind people. The muggles have a saying – ‘two wrongs don’t make a right’. I’ll live by that, and I think that’s what Albus is promoting.”
“Clearly, that’s why your parents named you after a goddess of wisdom and reason.” It was not like Severus to say things like that, but Minerva figured the whiskey had loosened his tongue.
She smiled. “Please. Reason hardly makes one wise. Albus is wise. It’s something that only comes with age. I’d be terrified if I had to make these decisions without him.”
“So would I.” He confided.
Silence fell on them for a time, as Severus took the monstrous sandwich in two hands and began a serious assault on it, and Minerva took a catlike pleasure in the devouring of her meat in tiny pieces that she prodded at before she ate.
“Do you love him?” Minerva had spoken before the thoughts were even fully formed in her mind, and regretted it instantly, watching Severus nearly choke on a mouthful of food. He coughed a little, and regained himself. “I’m sorry, I just... Sorry. But what will you do, in the end, when it comes to the final battle, and the man you love is standing by You-Know-Who’s right hand. He believes all the theatrical oratory, and he thinks you do, too. What are you going to do, Severus?” It wasn’t an accusation or a demand; she could hear the own pain in her voice. She knew well how powerful love was, and how uncompromising. If there came a time when she had to choose between loyalty and her Xiomara… the very thought made her ache with dread.
He closed his eyes for a moment, as if he didn’t want her to see what was in them. When he opened them again, she thought it must have been a trick of the light, because for a moment they seemed too damp to belong to him.
“I don’t know, Minerva. I honestly don’t know.”
~*~
Headmistress Minerva McGonagall twisted her hands together for the fifth time in as many minutes, watching the rise and fall of the sleeping portrait-Albus’ chest, and just let the tears fall.
How am I supposed to know, Albus? How am I supposed to do this on my own? I have the reason, but not the wisdom. I have the intelligence, but not the faith. Why won’t you wake up and tell me everything will be okay?
She turned her face to the window, and could see Hagrid’s hut still burning like a beacon in the night. What was this? A plan? Severus’ final act of loyalty, like she wanted to believe, or the triumph of love, and the cold-blooded killing of the most brilliant man she had ever known?
Loyalty or love? Wisdom or reason? She had to be her own Goddess now.
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Date: 2005-09-29 03:14 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-02 03:04 pm (UTC)