Epithalamium (Harry Potter for grown-ups)

Chapter Ten

When she woke, it was dark. She knew where she was the moment she opened her eyes, but the near-complete absence of light unnerved her, as she didn't know how long she had slept. The moon shining through the tower window provided enough illumination for her to make out the shadows of furniture, and she remembered her wand was on the dresser. Rather than fumble her way across a dark and unfamiliar room, she Summoned her wand and used it to light the candles in the bedside-table lamp, then the candelabra that hung in the middle of the bedroom.

She was about to cast a Tempus Charm when she noticed the antique cuckoo clock on the wall and smiled to herself; it was just like Albus to keep this funny Muggle artefact in his private quarters just as he kept one in his classroom. The clock read six twenty, which meant she only had ten minutes before she was late for dinner.

She went to the bathroom, unsure if she should use his shower or not. She would have liked to make use of the prefects' bath again—truth be told, she was slightly sore—but there wasn't time. She stood under the water just long enough to wash the dried perspiration from her body, and the sticky mixture of blood and semen from her thighs and nether regions.

A messy business, this sex thing, she thought to herself, amused.

She dried herself with a spell and dressed quickly. She had no comb or brush, so she smoothed her hair with another spell, with nearly adequate results, and hurried down to the Great Hall.

She hadn't considered what it would be like to see him again in public after their tryst, and when she spied him taking his seat at the High Table, she felt a frisson of warmth flood her core. She hoped she wouldn't blush.

Albus saw her hurry into the hall and marvelled at her poise as she strode confidently up to the table and took the seat opposite him.

"Good evening, Professor," she said.

"Good evening, Miss McGonagall," he replied.

He watched with veiled amusement as she tucked into her meal with a gusto he had not seen before. She noticed him noticing and smiled into her plate. When she saw him take a sip of water, she had to push away thoughts of what his lips had been doing only a few hours before. She took a sip of her own water to steady herself.

"Well, Miss McGonagall," said Professor Merrythought, who was sitting just to Albus’s left, "I trust your extra lessons are going well? Professor Dumbledore isn't being too hard on you?"

Albus nearly choked on his venison when he heard Minerva reply, "Very well indeed, thank you, Professor. I feel I'm benefitting even more than I anticipated from Professor Dumbledore's body of knowledge and experience. I'm most grateful to him for agreeing to have me"—here she took another sip of water—“as his private pupil over the holidays."

She is a wicked, wicked girl¸ he thought.

Professor Merrythought nodded as though she had expected that answer. "And you, Professor Dumbledore," she said, "are you pleased with Miss McGonagall's progress so far?"

"Very much so, Professor Merrythought," he replied. "She is, as you know, an incredibly gifted student." He had to bite his lip to keep from adding something about her talent with a wand.

Careful, man, he warned himself.

"Yes," said Merrythought. Turning back to Minerva, she said, "Miss McGonagall, if it is still your intention to apply to the Auror office after your graduation, I will be delighted to arrange an interview for you and provide you with a letter of recommendation. I'm sure Professor Dumbledore will be happy to do the same.” He nodded, and Professor Merrythought said, "We'll meet to discuss it once term gets started again, but we shouldn't wait too long; we don't want to interfere with your revising for your N.E.W.T.s."