DISCLAIMER: Not mine. D'oh! A/N: I just finished reading Prisoner of Azkaban again and couldn't resist writing this teeny weeny bit of fluff. Minerva gets the warm fuzzies… lol
I Know What You Did
Dumbledore was sitting in his office happily reflecting on the night's events when there was a knock at the door. 'Come in,' he called, looking up to see Professor McGonagall enter, hands clasped behind her back, a knowing smile on her face.
'I know what you did,' she said, sitting down in front of his desk. He heard a soft thump.
'I'm afraid you'll have to be a little more specific, Minerva. I've done a great many things.' He leaned forward, chin resting against his steepled fingers as he studied her over his glasses. Half an hour; if he wasn't mistaken she'd beaten her old record by twenty minutes.
'I just saw Severus – he's most displeased.' She looked almost gleeful at the prospect, folding her arms over her stomach. 'I thought he was going to burst a blood-vessel.'
'Ah yes, it was most unfortunate, Sirius Black escaping again,' he shook his head regretfully, though not without a twinkle in his eye. 'And right under the Minister's nose no less.'
'I know it was of your instigation, Albus; you might as well confess now,' she told him airily, examining her fingernails.
'Never!' he cried, quite enjoying their little game of cat and mouse. Of course where Minerva was concerned he never got to be the cat.
'You seem to be forgetting who wrote to the Ministry on Miss Granger's behalf,' she reminded him. 'I also happen to know that she would never have broken wizarding law without a little nudge and, considering there are only two people in the school who know she possesses a Time-Turner (and they are both sitting in this room), the list of suspects is rather short,' she finished, looking extremely pleased with her little piece of detective work.
'I accept your confession,' he sighed, conjuring a pair of fluffy pink hand-cuffs. 'Are you going to come quietly?' She glared at him.
'Albus Dumbledore, you are incorrigible,' she told him matter-of-factly. 'Must we go through this every time?'
'If you are so convinced that you are right, why do you need my confirmation?' he asked, looking wistfully at the handcuffs before banishing them with a wave of his hand.
'I don't need it but it does give me a fuzzy little glow.'
Albus shook his head in amusement, 'You and your 'fuzzy, little glows'. Tell me, which are you most pleased about – saving an innocent man or upsetting Severus in the process?'
'Ooh,' she hissed through her teeth, 'That's a toughie. Would it be wrong to say upsetting Severus?'
'Sometimes, my dear, I think you take inter-house rivalry a little too seriously.'
'Stop trying to change the subject and give me what I came for!' she demanded, pulling out her wand.
'Alright! Okay! I surrender!' he yielded, holding up his hands in defeat. He got to his feet, arranging his features into the epitome of saintly adoration as he stretched one hand forward, the other over his heart. He recited, with as much feeling as he could muster (and much to the amusement and rapt attention of the portraits):
You really, really know it all
My plots and plans are all inane
Compared to your enormous brain'
She grinned broadly, clapping her hands. 'I love it when you say that!' and with a wave of her wand two glasses appeared on the desk in front of her. She picked up the bottle of single-malt Scottish whiskey she'd brought with her (she'd been saving it for just such an occasion) and poured them both a generous measure. She raised her glass, 'To getting one over on Snape,' she beamed.
Albus chuckled, raising his glass. 'To you, my dear,' he toasted. 'To you.'