Minerva McGonagall stared out the window in her stony headmistress office with both hands wrapped around the warm mug of butterbeer. The laughter below in the courtyard drifted upward with surprising ease against the snow that had begun to fall.
She watched young Tom Hannigan, a third-year, throw a snowball in second-year Carly Fletcher’s direction. After a few flirtatious looks, Miss Fletcher slipped her hand into the safety of Mr Hannigan’s, and the two flounced happily to the Great Hall for lunch.
Minerva couldn’t keep her eyes off the gloved hands wrapped around each other. Such a simple and tangible form of an emotion she’d once lost and found. She’d once thought it was the snow; so many had found love after touching those flakes that seemed to fall from nowhere.
“Spying on the students again, Minerva?”
Minerva, shaken from her thoughts, spun to glare at the portrait of Albus Dumbledore who smiled innocently back. “Not spying, Albus. Watching.”
“Ah to see the joyful effects of love.”
Minerva scowled. “These children don’t know the meaning of the word.”
“And you do?” The quiet power behind the portrait’s eyes unnerved Minerva, forcing her to look away.
Did she? She wasn’t quite sure. But she knew there was something about that man, that Mr. Oliver Underwood, and those…things that made her feel she couldn’t quite describe.
Minerva McGonagall watched in horror as her perfect handwriting slashed suddenly downward as her scroll was bumped with great force.
“Oliver!” she cried as she stared at her unfinished essay. “You ruined it!”
“Hmm? Oh, sorry, Minerva.” The brown-haired, oval-faced boy beside her peeked at her parchment. “Well, it’s a good thing you didn’t get that far.”
Minerva glared at her friend as she pulled another scroll from her bag. She eyed Oliver’s essay enviously. “How did you finish before I did?”
“Easy, Min. It’s just as I always say. I’m smarter than you,” Oliver remarked casually. “Besides, you took that twenty minutes to do get a snack from the kitchens.” He reached for his Potions book to begin another essay.
Minerva muttered under her breath as she began her Charms essay over again, glaring at her study partner every so often. Oliver smirked, took off his glasses to wipe them, and resumed his studies.
When Minerva was sure Oliver was too engrossed to notice her, she peeked at him from under her lashes and took in the prominent features on Oliver’s face most people had overlooked. His strong nose declined from his forehead in a severe line, the tip just a shade darker from having rubbed against the ink of one too many books. His almond-coloured seemed amplified beneath the thick rectangles of his lenses, his eyelids a touch too long. His cheeks seemed to sink in to form hollows with the help of his high cheekbones. Minerva knew that Oliver’s skipping too many meals due to his zealousness to learn didn’t help fill them in. His hairline was too high, making his forehead look enlarged and none too attractive.
Yet he still had that talent to draw her in. Was it because he had the answer to almost everything? Or was it his confidence and his bearing? Was it his full lips? Or was it his smile and ringing laughter? Whatever it was, Minerva felt attached to him and was sure he felt the same. Why, hadn’t they been friends since first-year, ever since they bumped into each other in the library? They certainly didn’t have anyone else in the castle but each other.
“Minerva, you all right?”
Startled, Minerva quickly averted her eyes to the blank parchment before her.
“I was just kidding, you know,” Oliver’s voice was gentle and cautious. “I’m sorry if I hurt you. I’ll help you if you’d like.”
Minerva laughed nervously. “No, no. I was just thinking.” She kept her eyes trained steadily on her parchment, her mind still reeling at being caught staring at her best friend.
“Come on, Min.”
Minerva, still blushing, looked up quizzically. “What?” Oliver stood up and stretched.
“We’re going out for a walk.”
“It’s cold outside.”
Oliver laughed. “Min, it’s winter. What did you expect? If you’re so afraid of the cold, go change. I’ll wait for you.”
Minerva ran upstairs to don her coat, scarf, gloves, and boots, knowing it was useless to argue with Oliver. She came back down a few minutes later, still tugging on her left boot, to find Oliver in his coat, ready for her.
The two made their way silently to the entrance of the castle. Oliver flung the heavy doors open to reveal the Hogwarts grounds sporting a new coat of snow. Not a sprig of green grass interrupted the seemingly endless field of white. Even the great trees of the Forbidden Forest drooped with the weight of the majestic snow.
Minerva uncomfortably wrapped her overcoat closer to her body and sniffed as apprehension flowed through her. Minerva McGonagall did not like the cold. Minerva McGonagall did not join the masses of idiotic first-years who threw balls of wet ice at each other. Minerva McGonagall is going back to the common room to do her Charms essay.
“Min, where are you going?”
“Back to the Tower.”
“Aww, Min!” She felt him pull her arm to stop her. “I promise I won’t throw a snowball at you.”
Minerva gave Oliver her best glare. “That’s what you said last time.”
Oliver stood straighter and composed his face. “I solemnly swear upon the hat of Merlin the Great I will not fling a snowball at you.” When Minerva grumbled in defeat, Oliver broke into a grin, and together they headed out into the snow.
As they passed the greenhouses, Oliver broke the silence, “What do you have against snow anyway?” Oliver tucked his gloved hands into the pockets of his coat.
“I have a healthy fear of getting sick is all, Oliver.”
Oliver shook his head. “You’re paranoid, Minerva. Snowballs may get you sick, but it has been proven that they lighten the spirits.”
Minerva looked at him in disgust. “I’d like to see how lightened your spirit is when you’re sitting in front of the fireplace sniffling.”
Oliver threw his head back and laughed. “You are too much, Minerva.” The two walked in silence, listening to the dying echo of his chuckle. Suddenly, Oliver stopped and turned to her. “Min.”
The air between them, once jovial and gentle, now became heavy with unspoken burden. Minerva found herself unable to look her friend in the eye. Her hands clenched into fists around the edges of her coat, and her breathing slowed. She became too aware of how close he stood to her, how much he smelled of cider.
“You’ve been my dear friend for some time now. You know I have no one else here at this castle I can talk to.” Minerva stiffened when she felt a pair of warm hands cover her own. “I’ve been waiting for this opportunity for a long time, to take you away from the noisome nonsense back there and to tell you something that has been distracting me of late. Minerva, I “ well, maybe it’ll be better if I showed you.”
Oliver let go of Minerva’s hands to reach into the pocket of his oversized coat as Minerva watched in shock. He produced a small box wrapped in his red hankerchief. Lamely, he apologized, “Sorry I couldn’t properly wrap it, Min. I was short on time and money.”
Trembling, Minerva took the box from Oliver’s offering hand. For a fleeting moment, she fought the impulse to slam the box into the snow below their feet. What baloney was Oliver talking about? Why couldn’t he be reasonable and let everything be the way it was before? Why didn’t she just march upstairs and finish her damn homework?
Minerva glanced at Oliver’s anxious and hopeful face and knew that no matter how frustrated she was, she couldn’t possibly do anything to hurt him, the miserable, sensitive boy. Slowly, she uncovered the lid of the box.
A beautiful green brooch sat the bottom of the box. The gold outline of the brooch shined invitingly as the sun’s rays reflected off of it. It wasn’t anything fancy; those things never appealed to Oliver. It was simple, just an oval emerald stone set into its gold frame, yet Minerva was attracted to it at once.
A pair of thin, cool lips pressed suddenly and transiently against her cheek. Minerva felt her face flush with heat despite the frosty weather.
What was this feeling? It certainly wasn’t something covered by Professor Lystra in Transfiguration “ she would’ve known if it was. This wasn’t something she ran across in her studies. This warmth that tickled her insides “ oh, if only it had a name.
“Thank you, Oliver. I love it.” She had enough of this mushiness. “I have something for you, too.”
Oliver’s eyes danced with excitement. “Really, Min? Oh “ “
Oliver Underwood’s face the split second before the snowball landed still dissolved Minerva into a fit of giggles.
A snowball fight later, Minerva shivered as she accepted a hot mug of hot chocolate from Oliver. She wrapped her blanket tighter around her freezing body.
“I “ I…d-d-don’t f-f-feel ligh..ter,” she muttered through clenched teeth.
“Shut…u-u-up.”
“Headmistress?”
Minerva was snapped to the present by the faint pop of a house-elf. She felt her cheeks reddened at being caught reminiscing over a love long lost. She had been a fool, it’s true, but it didn’t make the memories any less enjoyable.
“Mr. Underwood is here for an interview, Headmistress.”
End notes: This story follows as closely to canon as my knowledge of the Harry Potter universe as of December 16, 2006 allows. Any information revealed to be false by Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows will not be changed.
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