Heart's Desire | Harry Potter for Grown-Ups

Act I

"Gryffindor!" the Sorting Hat cried after an eternity.

Minerva heard someone shout, "Hatstall!" as she hopped off the stool, and she shot a panicked look at Professor Dumbledore, who reassured her with a warm smile. As she took her seat at the Gryffindor table, she made a surreptitious glance at the girl she thought had shouted. She was at the Ravenclaw table, surrounded by a group of other girls. She had a wide face under her jauntily angled hat, and she was talking animatedly with her companions as Professor Dumbledore called "Montague, Claude" to come forward to be sorted. The Ravenclaw girl caught Minerva looking and flashed her a brilliant grin. Minerva quickly looked away.

~oOo~

"Nice game, McGonagall." Minerva looked up, surprised, into the flushed and freckled face of the Ravenclaw Keeper.

She steadied herself with a breath and tried to hide her embarrassment by focussing on shoving her gloves into her cubby. "Thanks, Amelia," she mumbled.

"You almost had us," Amelia said.

Minerva was acutely uncomfortable. She had thought she was alone in the changing room, having waited after the game to talk with Professor Dumbledore about beginning her Animagus studies before returning to change.

Had Amelia been waiting for her?

Amelia didn't seem to notice Minerva's discomfort—or she simply ignored it—saying, "You would've had us, too, if Prewett weren't so bloody committed to his daft playbook. You know, you should be Gryffindor captain, Minerva. You've got more brains in your left tit than Gareth Prewett has in his whole body."

This time she had to have noticed Minerva's blush, which started on the bare skin of her chest and quickly moved all the way up to tint her cheeks. Amelia's almond-shaped eyes sparkled with ... what? Derision? Excitement? Minerva quickly dismissed this last and decided to assume it was the former.

"Hardly," she said coolly.

"And to think we could have had you," said Amelia. "Bloody hat."

Minerva must have looked surprised, because Amelia said, "Hatstall, right? Let me guess: Ravenclaw-Gryffindor?"

All at once it dawned on Minerva what that epithet had meant. The word had lurked somewhere in her subconscious for five years during which she had assumed that "hatstall" meant something derogatory, probably about her appearance. How could she have been so thick?

"Yes. How did you know?" she asked.

"Simple deduction. You're far too smart for Hufflepuff, and the hat never stalls between Gryffindor and Slytherin, so it had to be Ravenclaw."

Minerva frowned. "There are plenty of smart Hufflepuffs," she said, pulling on her blouse and buttoning it quickly.

"If you say so," said Amelia, shrugging. "I was a hatstall too," she declared after a moment. "Ravenclaw-Slytherin. Not as long as you, though."

"Oh," said Minerva, cursing herself for her inarticulateness but unsure of what else to say

"Anyway, I just wanted you to know I thought you played really well," said Amelia.

"Thanks."

"Listen, if you ever want to toss the Quaffle around, I'd be game. Just let me know, and I can book the pitch. Benefit of being captain, and all."

"Thanks," said Minerva again.

"Well. Bye, Minerva."

Minerva gave a small smile and a nod of her head. As she watched Amelia Bones striding out of the locker room, a queer feeling settled in the pit of her belly.