FIC: "Love and Choice" for kelly_chambliss
Recipient: kellychambliss
Author/Artist: ???
Title: Love and Choice
Rating: PG-13
Pairings: Minerva McGonagall/Rolanda Hooch
Word Count: 1,200
Contents or warnings (highlight to view): *None*
Summary: A missing moment.
Author's/Artist's Notes: Canon doesn't have Minerva returning to Hogwarts until after the Battle of the Department of Mysteries. I tweaked that a bit and have her coming back before. Thanks to G. for reading.
The indignity of it!
Minerva, unconscious, immobile. Knocked out by four Stunning Spells. If it wasn't for the slow rise and fall of her chest, you would doubt she was still alive. She's scared you like this before, but that was years ago, and you've nearly forgotten what it feels like to worry about her.
Anger roots you to the spot, rising in your throat until you nearly choke on it.
Seeing her like this, flat on her back, hands relaxed on the duvet, unconscious, reminds you too much of the past. The past before Minerva was in your life. No - the past before Minerva was your life.
But can you do it again?
Can you care for another sick person? An unconscious Minerva, her sharp tongue stilled and her steely eyes closed reminds you of your father. Of the year you spent watching him die. You were the only one who could take care of him. Merlin forbid your brother take a leave of absence from Gringotts. No, it was you. You had to quit the Holyhead Harpies and make up a story about a trip overseas so you could stay home and watch your father die.
You know Minerva won't die, but seeing her like this brings back memories you would rather forget. Memories of your arsehole of a father dying from some Muggle disease, and refusing to seek treatment in the Muggle world because he didn't believe in it.
Minerva was a boon in those days. She was the only person who knew the truth, that instead of gallivanting across the world you were stuck at home with your father. She sent you letters filled with dry anecdotes about her students. The night your father died, she stayed with you, curled up at the foot of your bed in her Animagus form. You didn't flaunt your relationship then, and you still don't now.
But when a team of mediwitches bursts through the fireplace, your first instinct is to go with them. You don't want Minerva to wake up alone, not after what she just went through. Four Stunning Spells - you would call Dolores Umbridge an animal, but that would be an insult to animals.
Poppy stops you, her hand catching yours as you reach for Floo powder. "You can't," she says. "You-know-who will be nosing around tonight."
Your jaw pops with the effort of holding back your rage. You know it's the truth, but that doesn't make it any easier to bear.
"You can take care of her when she comes back. You know Minerva. She won't stay at St. Mungo's for long."
Taking care of her - that's what you're scared of.
Can you do it again? The question loops uneasily in your mind, like a bunch of first-time fliers.
Of course you can. This isn't obligation, this is choice.
You were obligated to your father.
You love Minerva.
**
Two days later, Poppy presses a note into your hand.
St. Mungo's Floo called. She'll be back tonight.
**
When you sneak into Minerva's quarters, Poppy is already there. She's bustling about, her manner quiet and efficient, so unlike the mediwitches from three days ago. When she moves away from the bed, you get your first glimpse of Minerva.
Your heart plummets when you see that she's sleeping. It's too similar to seeing her right after the fight, and you have to turn away. You press your forehead to the stone of the doorway. The coolness keeps your fear in check.
Poppy pats your shoulder. "Don't worry, Rolanda. She'll never admit it, but fighting with the head healer wore her out. They wanted to keep her at least a week, but she refused." She clears her throat. "And don't tell her, but I slipped a sleeping potion into her tea. Minerva needs the rest."
Poppy's confession makes you laugh, which is probably what she wanted. If Minerva ever finds out about the potion, the two of you will be assigned some horrible task that only the deputy headmistress of hundreds of unruly students could think of.
Levitating an armchair from its place by the fire, you set it down next to Minerva's bed. Poppy leaves you with one last pat on your back and a sympathetic look. And then your vigil starts. Watching Minerva breathe in and out, a light snore escaping every so often. You count the exhalations, not to keep track but for something to do, so your thoughts don't wander down a dark path.
The night passes faster than expected, love and choice making it almost easy.
**
You fit in a nap between your afternoon classes, and smile your way through the rest of the day. Before you snuck out this morning, Minerva woke up, and you had breakfast together. She didn't say much, but just seeing her awake was enough for you. You left her with strict instructions to sleep for the rest of the afternoon, and the quiet chuckle you received in return made you want to pick every flower in Greenhouse Two.
After dinner, you take your time getting ready, reminded of your courting days. There are some years when you spend almost every night with Minerva, but this year hasn't been one of them. Sometimes the space is good for you-it can add to your relationship-but you don't like when it's caused by something out of your control.
The mirror whistles when you smooth down your pants, making sure they highlight your arse. "Shut up," you tell it, even though you hope Minerva has the same reaction.
**
But when you see her, all your plans come to a crashing halt. Minerva looks as weak-much as you hate to think of that word and your lover in the same sentence-as she did that morning. You bite back a curse at the unfairness, and immediately feel like a cad. Minerva is fresh out of St. Mungo's, and all you can think about is how much you miss having her in the palm of your hand.
"Rolanda." Minerva opens her eyes. "I was wondering when you'd get here."
"I-we don't-I missed you." You sink into the armchair from last night and study your boots. The desire to snog Minerva fights with the urge to lecture her; you aren't sure which to do first. But if you kiss her, it will be too hard to stop yourself from going further.
Minerva tugs at your hand. "I need to feel alive," she says.
You understand. With the school on lockdown and Umbridge strutting around like a king bullfrog, neither of you has felt like yourselves. You miss the nights together, even when they were spent simply sitting by the fireplace and reading, Transfiguration Today for Minerva and Quidditch Weekly for you. Some nights it was more, but you both haven't felt free enough to indulge in a while. Which is a shame, because a Minerva in bed is a sight not to be missed. It's one you have gone without for far too long.
Tonight you have a tailor-made excuse to stay with Minerva.
But you still hold back, worried that she hasn't recovered enough. What-what if her heart can't take it?
Minerva laughs low in her throat. The sound is enough to jumpstart your own heart, and then when she speaks, she rips down the last barriers. "You've done far worse to me, Hooch, and enjoyed it. So get on with it."
And so you do.
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Author/Artist: ???
Title: Love and Choice
Rating: PG-13
Pairings: Minerva McGonagall/Rolanda Hooch
Word Count: 1,200
Contents or warnings (highlight to view): *None*
Summary: A missing moment.
Author's/Artist's Notes: Canon doesn't have Minerva returning to Hogwarts until after the Battle of the Department of Mysteries. I tweaked that a bit and have her coming back before. Thanks to G. for reading.
The indignity of it!
Minerva, unconscious, immobile. Knocked out by four Stunning Spells. If it wasn't for the slow rise and fall of her chest, you would doubt she was still alive. She's scared you like this before, but that was years ago, and you've nearly forgotten what it feels like to worry about her.
Anger roots you to the spot, rising in your throat until you nearly choke on it.
Seeing her like this, flat on her back, hands relaxed on the duvet, unconscious, reminds you too much of the past. The past before Minerva was in your life. No - the past before Minerva was your life.
But can you do it again?
Can you care for another sick person? An unconscious Minerva, her sharp tongue stilled and her steely eyes closed reminds you of your father. Of the year you spent watching him die. You were the only one who could take care of him. Merlin forbid your brother take a leave of absence from Gringotts. No, it was you. You had to quit the Holyhead Harpies and make up a story about a trip overseas so you could stay home and watch your father die.
You know Minerva won't die, but seeing her like this brings back memories you would rather forget. Memories of your arsehole of a father dying from some Muggle disease, and refusing to seek treatment in the Muggle world because he didn't believe in it.
Minerva was a boon in those days. She was the only person who knew the truth, that instead of gallivanting across the world you were stuck at home with your father. She sent you letters filled with dry anecdotes about her students. The night your father died, she stayed with you, curled up at the foot of your bed in her Animagus form. You didn't flaunt your relationship then, and you still don't now.
But when a team of mediwitches bursts through the fireplace, your first instinct is to go with them. You don't want Minerva to wake up alone, not after what she just went through. Four Stunning Spells - you would call Dolores Umbridge an animal, but that would be an insult to animals.
Poppy stops you, her hand catching yours as you reach for Floo powder. "You can't," she says. "You-know-who will be nosing around tonight."
Your jaw pops with the effort of holding back your rage. You know it's the truth, but that doesn't make it any easier to bear.
"You can take care of her when she comes back. You know Minerva. She won't stay at St. Mungo's for long."
Taking care of her - that's what you're scared of.
Can you do it again? The question loops uneasily in your mind, like a bunch of first-time fliers.
Of course you can. This isn't obligation, this is choice.
You were obligated to your father.
You love Minerva.
**
Two days later, Poppy presses a note into your hand.
St. Mungo's Floo called. She'll be back tonight.
**
When you sneak into Minerva's quarters, Poppy is already there. She's bustling about, her manner quiet and efficient, so unlike the mediwitches from three days ago. When she moves away from the bed, you get your first glimpse of Minerva.
Your heart plummets when you see that she's sleeping. It's too similar to seeing her right after the fight, and you have to turn away. You press your forehead to the stone of the doorway. The coolness keeps your fear in check.
Poppy pats your shoulder. "Don't worry, Rolanda. She'll never admit it, but fighting with the head healer wore her out. They wanted to keep her at least a week, but she refused." She clears her throat. "And don't tell her, but I slipped a sleeping potion into her tea. Minerva needs the rest."
Poppy's confession makes you laugh, which is probably what she wanted. If Minerva ever finds out about the potion, the two of you will be assigned some horrible task that only the deputy headmistress of hundreds of unruly students could think of.
Levitating an armchair from its place by the fire, you set it down next to Minerva's bed. Poppy leaves you with one last pat on your back and a sympathetic look. And then your vigil starts. Watching Minerva breathe in and out, a light snore escaping every so often. You count the exhalations, not to keep track but for something to do, so your thoughts don't wander down a dark path.
The night passes faster than expected, love and choice making it almost easy.
**
You fit in a nap between your afternoon classes, and smile your way through the rest of the day. Before you snuck out this morning, Minerva woke up, and you had breakfast together. She didn't say much, but just seeing her awake was enough for you. You left her with strict instructions to sleep for the rest of the afternoon, and the quiet chuckle you received in return made you want to pick every flower in Greenhouse Two.
After dinner, you take your time getting ready, reminded of your courting days. There are some years when you spend almost every night with Minerva, but this year hasn't been one of them. Sometimes the space is good for you-it can add to your relationship-but you don't like when it's caused by something out of your control.
The mirror whistles when you smooth down your pants, making sure they highlight your arse. "Shut up," you tell it, even though you hope Minerva has the same reaction.
**
But when you see her, all your plans come to a crashing halt. Minerva looks as weak-much as you hate to think of that word and your lover in the same sentence-as she did that morning. You bite back a curse at the unfairness, and immediately feel like a cad. Minerva is fresh out of St. Mungo's, and all you can think about is how much you miss having her in the palm of your hand.
"Rolanda." Minerva opens her eyes. "I was wondering when you'd get here."
"I-we don't-I missed you." You sink into the armchair from last night and study your boots. The desire to snog Minerva fights with the urge to lecture her; you aren't sure which to do first. But if you kiss her, it will be too hard to stop yourself from going further.
Minerva tugs at your hand. "I need to feel alive," she says.
You understand. With the school on lockdown and Umbridge strutting around like a king bullfrog, neither of you has felt like yourselves. You miss the nights together, even when they were spent simply sitting by the fireplace and reading, Transfiguration Today for Minerva and Quidditch Weekly for you. Some nights it was more, but you both haven't felt free enough to indulge in a while. Which is a shame, because a Minerva in bed is a sight not to be missed. It's one you have gone without for far too long.
Tonight you have a tailor-made excuse to stay with Minerva.
But you still hold back, worried that she hasn't recovered enough. What-what if her heart can't take it?
Minerva laughs low in her throat. The sound is enough to jumpstart your own heart, and then when she speaks, she rips down the last barriers. "You've done far worse to me, Hooch, and enjoyed it. So get on with it."
And so you do.
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