Title: Novel Idea [McGonagall, Harry/Neville]
Fandom: Harry Potter
Rating/Warnings: PG-13 for some groping, I suppose.
Summary: McGonagall receives a disgruntling report from an AV elf.
A/N: This didn't really happen when I was a TA at CTY or anything.
Professor Minerva McGonagall was just about to send
someone to inquire where the blazes her slide projector was when the AV
Elf finally arrived clutching it.
"About time," she said to the creature, motioning
for it to set the projector on her desk. The Elf did so, but then
remained standing beside her desk, wringing its hands nervously.
McGonagall tried to ignore it, but it stayed right where it was and
cleared its throat loudly.
"Can I help you?" she finally asked. What even was
the thing's name? Slinky? Swanky?
"I is seeing students," it reported. Minerva gritted
her teeth.
"I see them as well," she snapped, "all the time.
Now if you don't mind…"
"Please," the elf pleaded with huge eyes, "I is
seeing them in the wall niche beside this room! They is DOING things!"
"Things?" Minerva developed a sinking feeling. The
Elf bobbed its head fervently, shuddering. "Fine, I'll take care of
it." The Elf disappeared with a thankful pop.
Getting up reluctantly, Minerva waded through the
stream of students hurrying in the door, ignoring the whispers hissing
in her wake. She strode out into the hallway and around the corner to
the niche of reported debauchery.
She had to admit, whatever fools were in there had
chosen an excellent spot. A chance suit of armor and the way the torch
shadows fell made it so that even standing ten feet away, McGonagall
would have never noticed anything amiss unless she already knew people
were there.
Or happened to be standing ten feet away when
someone moaned.
A week's worth of
catnip says it's one of mine seducing some idiot girl, Minerva
grumbled to herself. Sure enough, when she took the last few steps, she
came face to face with the back of Harry Potter's head. He hands were
nowhere to be seen, no doubt buried deep within the robes of his
seducee. Well, this certainly brings
back memories.
"POTTER! TEN POINTS FROM GRYFFIN…"
Potter jerked back when she began shouting to reveal
his victim, and Minerva's voice died out as she realized what she was
seeing.
A very rumpled, very flushed Neville Longbottom.
In the intervening silence, Longbottom looked like
he might expire from fright, while Potter only looked put out about the
inconvenience.
"Twenty points then," Minerva said finally, "and
Longbottom, aren't you expected in Herbology?"
"Yes, Ma'am!" Longbottom's whisper was barely
audible as he slipped past Potter and went down the corridor as fast as
he could without having points taken for running, adjusting his robes
hurriedly.
Potter was still slouched against the wall, hair
sticking up, glasses askew, tie loose, staring up at her without a hint
of remorse. This was getting more and more like the past by the second.
"Potter, if you aren't presentable and in my
classroom in one minute, it'll be fifty points! Now MARCH!"
Minerva turned on her heel and stormed back into the
classroom without waiting for Potter's response.
"And just when I was beginning to get worried,"
Sprout gushed in the staff room several hours later, "in comes Neville,
all out of breath, claiming he'd just lost track of the time! He was
with Harry, you say, Minerva? Oh, isn't that just darling!"
"Isn't it just," Snape sneered over his teacup, and
Minerva narrowed her eyes at him, mostly because she'd been just about
to say the same thing.
"Sorry I can't chat," she said instead, standing up,
"essays to grade."
Back in her own office, Minerva sat down in her
chair and picked up her favorite quill, hoping to relax by spending a
few hours on her novel.
Coming around the
corner, she wrote, Professor Athena McCladaugh paused as lustful
moan drifted out of a well-hidden wall niche. Tucking her auburn curls
behind an ear with a slender hand, she stepped forward to investigate,
heels clicking smartly on the stone. Stepping around a suit of armor,
she found herself face to face with the back of Perry Gardner's head,
one of her students of course. Gardner's hair was a fright, and he was
pressing another student against the wall, some vapid girl from another
house, no doubt.
"What is the
meaning of this?" Athena demanded, eyes flashing. Gardner jerked away
at the sound of her commanding voice…
…to reveal the equally touseled and
raven-haired Alvin Newcastle, lips flushed and swollen, tie and half
his shirt buttons undone.
"When I am published," Minerva announced to the
room, "and adoring schoolgirls ask me where I get all my ideas from, I
am going to smile and say that it's simply a gift."
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