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Hagrid chuckled wryly as he watched Minerva sip at the firewhiskey he had bought for her after her third butterbeer had not seemed to make her feel
any better. "Come on, Nerva, you have to down it if you want it to work," he teased her.
"I'm not much of a drinker, Hagrid," she reminded him.
"It weren't always so, were it?" he answered with a grin.
"I thought you would have forgotten about that after all these years," she said, blushing.
"Who's going to forget Minerva McGonagall springing up in front of a gaggle of third years and dancing like there's no tomorrow?" Hagrid wanted
to know. "And you know something? To me, you're as beautiful now as you were back then, and if you hadn't of been seeing that rascal of a Riddle
just then, I would have snapped you up for myself in a heartbeat."
"Well, you've certainly downed enough firewhiskey for the both of us," said Minerva, though she couldn't help but giggle. "You do know that Dumbledore
brought me to his office the next morning for a severe scolding. And Tom? Well, that was about the end of things for us—I told him that he was having
a bad influence on me, and I had to think about the rest of my life. After all, they don't let discipline cases work at the Ministry, do they?"
Hagrid shook his head. "There were a lot of things happening back then, Nerva," he said as he grasped one of her hands in his. "But, there's
something I've been wanting to ask you for a lot of years. Something I'll probably get hexed for even thinking, but—"
"Don't you dare ask me to dance for you again, Hagrid!" she teased him. "I don't think my hips can move like that anymore."
"And how are we doing back here?" asked Aberforth as he stepped up to the secluded table where the two sat across from each other giggling. "Can I
get you anything else?"
"No, sir, I think we had best be going," said Hagrid. "It wouldn't do for a Headmistress to do a table dance, now, would it?"
Raising a brow, Aberforth nodded his agreement even as he tried to shake the mental image from his mind. "I'll be bidding you good day, then," he
said as he walked briskly away again.
"Hagrid, you're terrible!" Minerva chuckled.
"You didn't let me ask you, as usual," Hagrid mentioned.
"Fine, what do you want to ask?" she said with a raised brow.
"I wondered, Miss McGonagall, if you would consent to go on a real date with an old codger like me?"
"A real date?" she clarified. "As in?"
"As in I bring you flowers, we dance the night away, we make love till the wee hours of the morning, and you get all nervous about being late to
work and people noticing—"
"And when exactly were we to have this 'real date'?" she asked with an indulgent smile.
"We could have it right now, if you like," he teased her. "It's only just after noon."
"Hagrid, aren't we too drunk to dance the night away?"
"Not at all, Nerva," he chuckled. "If I remember right, drinking makes it easier for you to dance. Besides, I think that old Dumbledore would love to
see you happy for a change, wherever he might be."
"Him, again?" she scoffed. "You're determined to make me admit I loved the man, aren't you? Well fine, I did. Does that make you feel better?"
"No, but hopefully it makes you feel better, admitting it," he said. "So, what do you say? Will you do me the honor of spending some time with me?"
"Other than the three hours we just wasted on firewhiskey and small talk?" she clarified.
"Yes, other than that."
"Why not?" she said. "I'm not getting any younger, am I?"
"Nothing wrong with that," Hagrid said. "I like a woman with a bit of seasoning. Let's go."
"Did you hear what I just heard?" asked Hermione as she returned from the restroom of the Hog's Head. Tom looked up curiously, and she pointed out
the rather cheerful couple just leaving from the corner of the room.
"What did you hear?" he inquired curiously.
"Hagrid just asked McGonagall out on a date," she said, trying not to laugh. Aberforth, having seen her return, brought the two their meals and a bit of gossip.
"Those two have been sitting in here for hours, getting more friendly by the minute," he said.
"Minerva and Hagrid?" Tom said with a wrinkled nose. "How very—interesting."
"Oh, now, Tom," Hermione chided him. "It's about time the woman cut loose a little. It's been years since she even thought of dating anyone."
"I wonder what set her off," he mumbled.
"Probably seeing us kissing in the hallway," Hermione said matter-of-factly. "That was quite a good kiss."
"Oh, now I'm disgusted all around," Aberforth grumbled. "All you people pairing off, and here I am stuck here all day to put up with it. It's enough to
drive a man to drink—not that I do. I learned my lesson on that score long ago. You two enjoy your meal. And Hermione, no table dancing, if you please."
"Table dancing?" Hermione repeated in surprise.
"It's nothing, sweetheart, don't worry about it," Tom told her as he cast the retreating man a quelling glance. "Sometimes being from the past catches up
to you."
"Yes, I suppose it would," she agreed, and the two ate their meal in companionable silence.
Dolores Umbridge was seated on a makeshift throne of sorts, with (Goyle) standing just behind it. The two of them watched as their group of followers
assembled, and finally the woman cleared her throat and stood before the assembly of about one hundred people with a satisfied smirk.
"Greetings, my friends," she said as she clasped her hands together and began to pace about within the area chosen as a sort of stage. "It's so nice to
see you all again. I have given a lot of thought to our dilemma over the past two weeks, even though I was also on my honeymoon. As some of you may know,
Goyle and I performed a joining ceremony just last week. Together, we have decided the best course of action will have to be a direct assault. But, as you
know, the Ministry is very strong. We will need to decide when and how to strike, if we are to succeed. Our goal will be to reform the government, placing
only pureblooded wizards in control. Mudbloods are the scourge of our world, and they must be put in their place every bit as much as the Muggle parents
they sprang from. Now, you all know that I have always preferred order in all things, so we will be taking things in stages. We need to know the current
habits of every division, the guards of every wall, and the assignments of every wizard within that office. Without that knowledge, we may be eradicated
before we even manage to breach the outer defenses. Among you, I see, are many Ministry workers, and to you I say welcome. With your help, we will make
our world a better place for all true witches and wizards."
"Hear, hear!" they all shouted.
Dolores giggled as she returned to her seat. Her husband would arrange their followers into the necessary groups, and each group would work on
a specific task. All would be orderly, just as it should be.
Bright and early the following morning Tom and Hermione went to see Professor McGonagall to receive their test results. The woman had bags under her eyes and looked very much like she was suffering from a severe hangover.
"Minerva, are you all right?" Tom asked in surprise.
"Yes, Mr. Riddle, I'm perfectly fine," she told him. "You'll be happy to know that you both scored one hundred percent, so you won't have to wonder which one did better. I'm sure that given both your penchants for being the best, that is probably a good thing."
"I hope you didn't give us both top score so we wouldn't bicker," Hermione teased her. "You're supposed to be our Professor, not our marriage counselor."
"Did you need one of those already?" she asked wryly.
"Of course not, and I doubt we ever shall," said Tom as he cast Hermione a rather carnal look.
"Marriage is not just about sex, Tom Riddle," Minerva admonished him. "I do believe I've told you that before."
"Summer flings are just about sex, though," he informed her. "Especially when both parties already know they'd never get on for the long haul."
"Yes, you are quite correct," she agreed.
"Should I leave you two alone?" asked Hermione pointedly.
"No, my darling, there is no need," Tom told her. "Minerva and I have nothing to say to each other that cannot be said in front of you. Isn't that right, Professor."
"Oh, definitely," she reassured her. "Your skin must be a lot thicker than mine, Hermione, dear. A whole lot thicker."
"So, I know Hermione is too polite to ask, but she's dying to know," said Tom with a grin. "How did your date with Hagrid go last night?"
Minerva's eyes popped open. "Very well, thank you, though I don't know how either of you would know about it."
"You might have done, if you weren't all liquored up when you left the Hog's Head yesterday," he chuckled. "We were seated front and center, having an early dinner."
"You were there?" she asked feebly. "I must have been a sight."
"I've seen worse," he said, chuckling.
"We'll have no more of that, if you please," she grumbled. "I haven't danced in years—until last night, that is."
"Hagrid got you to dance?" Tom asked, grinning even more. "Wait, how big is his table?"
"Not on the table, you oaf," she growled. "Now, if you're quite finished teasing me, you two can get back to London and out of my hair. You've no more need to hang about here."
"Oh, Professor, I really am going to miss you," said Hermione as she gave the woman a hug. "And, no doubt, so is Tom, but he's afraid if he says so I'll hex him but good."
"That might be worth the price of admission," she chuckled, and laughed outright when her jibe hit home. Tom looked positively grouchy.
"Come on, then, Tom," said Hermione, laughing as well. "You did start it, after all."
"Quite right," he conceded. "Well, we'll leave you to your duties then. Oh, and Minerva, if you have a hankering to table dance again, there's always the Great Hall. Imagine, a never-ending table!"
They all laughed merrily as the young couple headed for the door.
"How's the table at home, Hermione?" she inquired.
"She wouldn't know," Tom called over his shoulder. "I'm into mirrors these days."
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