Author's Note: Written for…

The Quote Challenge. Quote: "How very Slytherin/Gryffindor/Ravenclaw/Hufflepuff of you..."

All You Need Is Love Challenge. Friendship: Minerva/Albus

Amateur Divination Challenge. Prompt: cookies

Cookie Crumbs

Minerva sighed, staring up at the darkened ceiling of the hospital wing. She wished she could sleep in her own bed, or have her wand, or breathe.

She turned her head to look at the cards and flowers that had been pouring in the day and a half since her accident. At the forefront of the cards was a "Thanks a lot for getting a concussion and letting Slytherin win again" card from her brothers.

There was a noise in the corridor and she carefully raised her torso up from the bed to get a better look at the door, wincing at the pain her three broken ribs caused.

She thought it would be the healer coming to check on her, or maybe one of her roommates was sneaking down. The last person she expected to see was her Transfiguration professor with a plate of cookies.

"I hope I didn't wake you," Professor Dumbledore whispered loudly even though they were the only occupants of the infirmary.

"No, I can't sleep," she replied hoarsely. Sitting up to take a sip of water hurt more than dealing with a dry throat.

"Here, let me help," he said, setting the plate down on the bed next to hers and pulling over the unused pillows to raise her up. He filled a water glass for her and left it on the bed tray where she could reach.

"Thank you." She slowly sipped the water, watching Dumbledore over the rim of her glass. "Professor, what are you doing here?"

"I thought you could use some company. Am I correct?" He pulled a chair over and sat down, taking the plate of cookies into his lap again.

Minerva smiled at him. Dumbledore always knew her so well – sometimes even better than her own father, who she often had a difficult time identifying with.

"It is a bit boring in here," she admitted.

"Yes, I recall spending a few nights in this wing in my fourth year. I suffered some minor burns after I accidentally set my bed curtains on fire." Minerva quirked an eyebrow at him. "It was completely by accident, of course," he hastily added.

"I wasn't about to suggest you intentionally set your dormitory on fire, Professor."

"Good. As I was saying, I found the infirmary rather dull as a boy."

"Madam Flint took away my wand."

"Yes, school regulations, I believe. I'll see what I can do about that. How are you feeling?"

"I can't breathe or move, but otherwise I'm fantastic," she told him, then pointed to her brothers' card. "Everyone's upset with me for losing the cup."

"That was not your fault, and I'm sure your teammates will come to realize that in time." He offered her the plate of cookies. "I thought something sweet might help brighten the mood a bit so I slipped down to the kitchens and got us some gingersnaps. Also-" he reached a hand into the depths of his robes and pulled out two bottles of butterbeer. "-I smuggled these in for us."

"How very Slytherin of you, Professor," the seventh-year said with a laugh.

"Yes, I suppose I do have my moments of cunning. Let's just keep this between you and me, hmm? No need for Headmaster Dippet to find out." He said with a wink.

"Whatever you say, sir."