It was not dignified for teachers to run through the corridors. Skipping and hopping were even less recommended. Rolanda would not skip, no, she would not. She would walk to Minerva's rooms in the calm, sedate fashion befitting a Hogwarts teacher of long standing. It would lengthen the journey, true. But it would also lengthen the delicious anticipation. Minerva had insisted on trying the costume on in private. "You want to see the elegance of the ensemble," she had said, "not the struggle of getting in." And the ensemble was certainly something to look forward to. But the reason Rolanda nearly – but not quite – hopped, was the way Min had looked, and the timbre of her voice when she said, "I want to dazzle you."

Finally Min's rooms, the password, the doorknob, which was suddenly uncooperative. Or was it her hands that were trembling? At last, the door gave way. She rushed in – and stopped dead in her tracks.

Against the chimney piece leaned the most delectable Muggle gentleman Rolanda had ever seen. The black tailcoat hugged the slender shoulders. The long legs were made for trousers, especially for trousers with such a very fetching satin band along the sides to emphasize the tall figure. The little line of black buttons on the shirt swelled over the chest, hinting at treasures that no ordinary gentleman, wizard or Muggle, could possibly offer.

Rolanda swallowed several times. "Brilliant. Just brilliant," she finally managed. "It's perfect from head to toes, Min."

"Actually, it isn't. Not to toes," said Minerva, pulling up one trouser pipe. "Socks. What do I do about socks? They didn't come with the costume, and I've no idea about the colour. I Transfigured a pair of stockings and they were black, but I'm not sure any more. Look, all the accents – the waistcoat, the shirt, the tie – are white. Does that mean the socks should be white, too?"

Rolanda paused to consider. "I've no idea," she said at last. "What do Muggles wear for socks with a costume like this? What do Muggles wear for socks normally, Min, would you know that?"

"Not really – all sorts of colours, I think. And the problem is, we can't go to a Muggle street and look, because the point isn't what they normally wear, but what they wear with this. I mean, normally they don't wear white ties and white waistcoats either – that I do know."

"You're right," Rolanda said, pondering the problem. "Muggle habits won't help. On the other hand, most wizards wouldn't know which is the correct colour, either, so it won't be vitally important. What do wizards wear on formal occasions? Have you ever noticed Fudge's socks? He dresses formally."

"And I've most certainly never watched his socks."

"Severus wears black socks," Rolanda offered.

"True, but then Severus wears black everything. It's hardly decisive."

"What'll Albus wear? That might give you ideas," Rolanda chuckled.

"Albus will go as Neptune. He waxed lyrical on turquoise, cerulean, and viridian. When he mentioned eau-de-nil, I mentally tuned out. I think he planned to combine all colours and add bits of rhinestone for sparkly water drops. Actually, that suggestion of yours wasn't half bad. Now that I recall Albus's plans, my mind is made up. Black. The quieter, the better." With a quick flick of her wand, Minerva Transfigured the socks into black. "There, that's it."

She walked toward one of the chairs and sat down. Rolanda smiled. Min, ever the perfectionist, had clearly practiced walking in trousers, and she sat down with perfect elegance, her legs slightly, but not too much apart. A very proper little gentleman. Only her gleeful looks gave her away – they made Rolanda want to take her dashing boy straight off to bed. "Quite the gent, you are," she said. "Movements and all. You may be safe form the traditional groper, but all the ladies will ogle you instead."

"There's only one lady I have designs on." Minerva tried to arrange her face into something resembling a leer. "It's why I wanted this suit – not just for the fun of wearing it to the ball and seeing Cornelius's reaction, but for the fun of tonight."

Looking more serious, she continued, "You were right – we did need time together. And some fun, too. I wasn't exactly good company, these last few weeks. No, don't deny it, I wasn't. And you know how they always say, in magazines and such, that you have to surprise your partner from time to time?"

"This costume certainly is a surprise," Rolanda said. "It'll be a pity to take it off – but off it'll come before the night is much older."

"Not so hasty, my dear lady." A strict teacher face, but with laughing, inviting eyes. "You've clearly a lot to learn about surprises." Minerva got up, crossed the room to Rolanda's chair, and straddled her lap. "The very essence of a surprise is that it's something new and unexpected," Min said in the voice of one who's dictating notes to a particularly dim-witted student.

To Rolanda's delight, she interrupted the lesson with a long kiss.

"A costume that you have already seen is therefore, clearly, not a surprise. It lacks both the 'new' and the 'unexpected'. "

"Yes, Miss," whispered Rolanda.

"Excuse me? Yes Miss?"

"I mean, yes, Sir, sorry, Sir."

"You weren't paying proper attention," said Minerva, while she unbuttoned Rolanda's shirt and slid one hand into her bra. "I expect my students to sit up straight and look lively," she continued, underlining every syllable with a teasing little caress of Rolanda's nipple. Rolanda arched her back and sat straighter than she had ever done.

"That's what I mean by 'looking lively," Min said approvingly. "Now listen. Are you listening?"

"Ahh … yes, please …" Rolanda groaned, arching further into those tantalizing fingers.

"Yes, please, who?"

"Yes, please, Sir. I'm listening, Sir."

"Now, show me that you understand the meaning of 'surprise'. What's new and unexpected tonight?"

You taking the initiative for the first time in weeks, Rolanda thought, but "you straddling me? Sir?" she suggested.

"True. Five points for Ravenclaw. Ten more if you can find the real surprise." Minerva looked like the cat that got the cream. Rolanda checked her carefully – tie, shirt, vest, all as in the shop. No room for surprises. And the coat was tight-fitting round the shoulders, not a crease on the back, no room to put anything either, unless … no. No pockets. And Min smiled in the most infuriating manner. The honour of Ravenclaw was at stake, and Rolanda would not fail her house.

Pockets were a good notion, though, and she'd look for them. Trouser pockets, perhaps? Did a suit like this have trouser pockets? And if it did, how did you reach into the trouser pockets of someone who's straddling your legs and facing you? Not, that's how. Not without twisting your wrists or risking the seams of the costume. An outward examination, however …

Carefully she patted Min's back, her arse, and her hips. Nothing. Just to make sure – or so she told herself – she decided to pat the front as well. Even though it probably wasn't to the manner born to grab a gentleman in the crotch.

"Merlin's bollocks, Min!" she gasped. So that was the real surprise? Unexpected, for sure. And it explained sitting with legs apart.

"Merlin's bollocks, Sir!" Minerva corrected, twitching Rolanda's nipple and grinning like a naughty girl – a naughty boy – a naughty Minerva. The most irresistible sight Rolanda knew.

"And besides, it's not Merlin's bollocks," Minerva continued. "It's Circe's Delight, the best Witch's Playground had to offer. Guaranteed pleasure for both, they said. Still, you found the new and unexpected. Ten points for Ravenclaw. You may now unwrap your gift, Miss Hooch."

With a groan, Rolanda reached for the little white bow tie.

"Don't pull – it's ready made. There are hooks at the back," Minerva whispered, leaning towards her to give her access. Rolanda found the hooks, undid them, and started on the pleasure of removing the coat, the vest, and then, one by one, she undid the tiny black buttons.

"Now there's what every gentleman should wear," she said, as she took off Minerva's bra and let her fingers and mouth explore her breasts till Min moaned and got up from Rolanda's lap. "Bedroom," she suggested.

"Tie!" Rolanda countered sternly, re-adjusting the white tie around Min's neck. "I want to enjoy my lovely boy to the full. And I can be stern, too, mind!"

"Can you now," purred Minerva, pulling Rolanda in a close embrace. "Can you, indeed?" she whispered between kisses, and put a long, trouser-clad leg between Rolanda's thighs. Softly, she moved her leg against Rolanda's crotch. "Tell me, sternly, what you want, then."

"I – I want you to – " If you want to sound in control, measured tones worked best, Rolanda thought, and they lend dignity to your voice. Stern, stern, stern! Minerva withdrew her leg and instead rubbed her hips against Rolanda, giving her the full promise of Circe's Delight.

"Yes – oh, please, yes –" Rolanda moaned. So much for stern dignity. To her dismay, Minerva stopped rubbing. And arched her eyebrows. Of course! That was it.

"Yes, please, Sir," she chuckled, and led Minerva to the bedroom. "You didn't continue the Muggle accessories all the way through, then?" she asked as Minerva took of her trousers, carefully, so as not to spoil their pristine looks. True, they had to serve for Fudge's party yet. Hurriedly, Rolanda undressed herself.

"Good heavens, no," Minerva answered. "First of all, I wouldn't know where to find a Muggle shop that has sex toys. It isn't exactly the kind of thing you can ask a passer-by, is it? Besides, I very much doubt they would offer the same level of mutual enjoyment. And Muggles can't affix them magically, either. How would they put them on, you think? With glue?"

Rolanda, who had sat down to take of her boots, instinctively crossed her legs as the idea and its consequences sunk in. Removing it would be the worst wax ever. "Ties?" she suggested. "Straps? Something like pants? Crotchless pants, I should hope, then. Poor Muggles."

"And lucky me," she whispered as Minerva turned towards her. What would it be like to wear a magical dildo for hours? In the past, they had sometimes played with them. But Rolanda had been the one to wear it. She knew the sensation of smoothness against her clit, the sudden rush of blood when all spells were in place – both for fixing and for feeling. But it had never occurred to her to wear it hours beforehand. Trust Minerva the Perfectionist to go all the way – she could have kept that toy in the bedroom, and put it on now, but no. If Minerva was going to play at cross-dressing, she did it properly. With all the accessories just so.

Rolanda smiled as she stretched herself out on the bed, fully naked. "Merlin, I want you."

Minerva stretched out beside her and trailed her fingers along Rolanda's breasts, hips, thighs. Circling, but not quite touching her clit, until Rolanda moaned both her pleasure and desire for more. Only then did the fingers probe further, did Minerva's hungry mouth reach Ro's nipples. Rolanda spread her legs; she wanted to, needed to. She heard herself whisper incoherently, "now, yes, want … please … need … more …"

And then there was Minerva's body between her legs, Minerva's hand that opened her further and guided the tip of the dildo, an "aaahhh" that lasted as long as the slow, exquisite stretch, and for the life of her Rolanda couldn't have said who had made the sound – she, Minerva, or both.

Minerva began to move, unsmiling, as always when she was completely concentrated on the task at hand – be that reading, magic, or making love. She thrusted slowly at first, waiting for Rolanda to guide her, following her rhythm. Rolanda grabbed Min's arse, to increase her speed, to allow her deeper entrance, to be able to push back, and finally to have something to hold on to as she drowned in waves of pleasure.

XOXOXOXOXOX

"You know, at first I had my doubts about that whole fancy dress business," said Minerva hours later, after Rolanda's nimble fingers had replaced the Delight of Circe. "I only went with you because you wanted it, and you were right: we hadn't done anything together in weeks. But I enjoyed it! I really did. The role-play, I mean. Being someone else for an evening. Not Deputy-Headmistress McGonagall, with papers to mark, a school to run, and a list of worries as long as my arm, but a dashing Muggle gentleman seducing a beautiful lady."

Minerva leaned over and gave butterfly kisses on Rolanda's cheek, jaw, and neck. With a contented sigh she rested her head on Ro's shoulder and snuggled against her. "A very beautiful lady. I need you to remind me of what matters most to me," she said. "And I know you hate telling me."

"I don't hate reminding you – I just never know whether I'm right, or merely possessive and jealous of your career. Of the time you spend on your work, I mean; I wouldn't want your job for all the tea in China. But then, you have to rein me in, occasionally, when I want to do something outrageous. And you're always right, but I know you're afraid I'll see you as a spoil-sport. I don't. You're my anchor – and I don't care if it sometimes takes a little work to pull that anchor up."

She pulled Minerva a bit closer and felt a ripple go through her – a ripple that spoke of suppressed laughter. "What's funny?" she asked.

"Nothing. That is, I was thinking it's a pity I have to return the suit so quickly after the party. Instead of telling me when I get obsessive again, you could show me, I thought. Put out the suit for me to wear, I mean. That would be a pretty clear comment."

"And a very delicious way of telling you," Rolanda smiled. "But that way, you'd have the fun of the dressing up every time. I've been wondering, you know. About what it's like to wear that suit, and then the way you did, with the dildo. I can see how it would make you feel more completely different. And I'd like to know what it feels like physically.

"I could wear a Quidditch outfit, of course, but that wouldn't be the same. I've worn that often enough; it's normal for me. And besides, Quidditch clothes are too tight. Now that I think of it, boys might need a cushioning charm much more than girls. After all…"

Minerva smiled. "After all, girls can have fun on a broom. We've both experienced the – erm – other way of flying, on occasions. But you're right; I'd hate to try this in Quidditch trousers. However, if you have a spare uniform somewhere?"

"Yes, of course. Lots of them. Why?"

"Because I happen to be quite good at Transfiguration, that's why. And now that I have the perfect example to work from … Transfiguring one of those uniforms into this Muggle outfit would be easy. And then it can be your turn to be the Muggle gentleman. Do you think you could possibly bring me an old Quidditch outfit tomorrow morning? I want to get the details just right, and that would give me enough time before I have to go to Cornelius's party – I can't wait to see his face!"

"Oh, Merlin, yes. Yes for Cornelius's face – all of their faces. You must give me full reports. And beware of Albus; you're such a gorgeous boy. And yes for making the costume. I had actually thought of asking you, but you're so busy right now. Are you sure you'll have time for it?"

"I'll make time," Minerva said, settling herself into a position in which she could sleep without waking up with stiff muscles. "I'll just make time. As a very wise woman once told me, "Carpe Diem."