Disclaimer: Unfortunately not mine; if they were I'd write a book called "Minerva McGonagall and the Order of the Phoenix", subtitled "Albus Realises What He's Been Missing". And probably rated 15

;-)

Author's Note: Please be aware, this is entirely separate from my Nouveau reality, as I have tried to reinterpret Minerva and Albus' relationship and characters. Whether I've been at all successful is a matter for my readers!

'Quite!'

Eighteenth of December, the first evening of the Hogwarts Christmas Holidays.

'Here?'

'No, a little to the left.'

'I still don't see why I cannot hang this above the door.'

'It's improper. What if a student were to enter?'

'Really, Minerva, I am not obligated to kiss each and every person who passes beneath my mistletoe!'

'I really don't see why you want any.'

'Kisses? A man always needs kisses.'

'Albus…' she warned.

'And a woman too.'

'Some women are above such silly girlish notions.'

'Above notions of love? When did you grow so cold?'

'I am quite capable of love, thank you very much. I simply choose not to let it rule my life!'

'Indeed.'

'What do you mean by that?' growled Minerva McGonagall.

'Whatever you read into that was already in your thoughts.'

'Rubbish! I am quite content.'

'There's that word again, my dear.'

'What word?'

''Quite'.'

'Oh, really, Albus. You've been reading psychology again.'

'No, I've been reading you.'

Minerva McGonagall looked at him askance and decided to ignore the Headmaster's last comment.

'Just there,' she said, pointing, and obligingly Albus Dumbledore levitated the sprig of mistletoe to a stationary point above the fireplace.

'I really wish you'd let me put it above the door. I'd get many more kisses,' he complained.

'Indeed,' said McGonagall, sceptically, throwing his own ambiguous comment back at him.

'Are you suggesting I'm an old man nobody will want to kiss?'

'Yes,' said McGonagall, succinctly.

'Hmm,' said Dumbledore, stroking his beard. 'I got plenty of kisses last year.'

'On the cheek,' pointed out Minerva acerbically.

'Ah,' said Dumbledore. He beamed. 'Well, true, a lot of my kisses are but friendly ones; still I wager I had a proper kiss or two that you did not!'

'Really, Albus!' snapped McGonagall. 'Leave me out of your love affairs. I have better things to do!'

'Minerva!' exclaimed Albus, but to no avail; the lady had already stormed away. He had only been teasing…

Christmas Eve

The Main Hall at Hogwarts sported several Christmas trees, but the most spectacular stood behind the staff table. A fair bit of shuffling had been involved but the result was magnificent. Filius Flitwick had worked a marvelous charm to create real icicles hanging jaggedly from the pine tree; when the light reflected off them they shone pearly white and dazzled with their beauty.

Unfortunately, if the floating candles got too close, as they had a tendency to do, the icicles predictably melted. Ice cold drops of water down the backs of teaching robes were most unpleasant - and led to the impression, from a distance, that many of the professors had developed nervous twitches.

But, twitches aside, tea time on Christmas Eve always held the impatient undercurrent of suspense at Hogwarts. Students were eagerly looking forward to Christmas Day, presents and food; and of course the staff were no different. Despite what they would have had the students believe, they were just as excited… simply better by far at hiding it.

'…And so, Minerva, I am fairly certain that whilst what you have given me feels like a book, it is not, but instead is merely packaged to appear so,' declared Dumbledore, with an air of triumph.

'You've put a lot of thought into this, haven't you?' Minerva shook her head at him in amused reproof.

'A few hours here, a few hours there,' he admitted, taking a sip of wine, his eyes twinkling merrily. From past experience Minerva knew that if she saw two twinkles in each eye, he was drunk, or - more likely – the observer was.

She laughed. Christmas was such a lovely, relaxing, loving holiday, a time to be with those you held dear to your heart.

'Tell me then, my dear Minerva, how many clandestine kisses have you snatched from beneath the mistletoe this year?' Albus asked outrageously.

'None, Albus, and I intend to keep it that way. Clandestine indeed, I'm much too old!'

'You're never too old for love,' disagreed Albus gently.

'And you?' asked Minerva, surprised at her own daring.

'Me?' he asked innocently.

'Don't even…' she threatened, raising her fork.

'No kisses from my one true love,' he sighed dramatically. Beside him, Flitwick chuckled.

'One true love,' snorted Minerva. 'I should have known better than for you to be serious.'

'I can be serious,' protested Albus.

'I know,' said Minerva, 'but never on Christmas Eve.'

'Perhaps not,' said Albus, and then winked.

Christmas Night

Professor McGonagall stepped out of the portrait entrance to Gryffindor Tower. Her charges were all safely abed, sleeping at last, for it was striking midnight and they had finally worn themselves out. She herself had one last stop to make before she retired to her own bed; the papers in her office needed collecting so that she might make a start on them tomorrow. A subject like Transfiguration was taken by most of the student body and required lots of time and effort on both sides.

Normally she would have changed herself into her animagus form, but the night was beautiful even to her human eyes. Walking along the candlelit corridor the windows showed her a velvety dark blue night sky, scattered with bright stars, and a sharply curved moon…

'Caught in the act!'

'Ahhh!' Minerva cried out, startled. 'Albus! You scared me!'

Albus Dumbledore grinned and stepped out from the shadow of a doorway. He was wearing a pair of pink fluffy slippers which clashed horribly with his heavy burgundy dressing gown.

'I at least have a reason for being out this late.'

'As do I,' rejoined McGonagall. 'I was about to collect some papers from my office.' She indicated to his right.

'A likely story,' said Albus.

'Excuse me?'

'Come along, admit it; you were seeking a clandestine kiss with the love of your life.'

'Wh-what… Have you had too much eggnog, Dumbledore?'

Slowly Dumbledore lifted his hand and pointed upwards. Minerva followed his direction with her eyes and saw, much to her horror, a floating piece of greenery. She groaned.

'I was not!' she emphasised firmly. 'And what, exactly, was it you were doing?'

'I was on my way to the kitchens for some hot chocolate.'

'A likely story,' sniffed McGonagall.

'And, pray tell me, for what other reason would I be up at such a late hour?'

'It is far more likely that you were seeking a clandestine kiss than I.'

'Really?' said Albus vaguely, and then paused. She looked at him suspiciously. He had that strange expression on his face which usually meant he was hatching some harebrained idea.

'Well?' she prompted.

'Well enough,' he said. 'It seems both of us were seeking clandestine kisses.'

'I was not,' contradicted Minerva, frowning.

'Would you not?' he asked.

'Of course not!' she snapped, and then likewise paused.

'No?' he asked quietly. Bright blue eyes fixed like gimlets upon her own, boring into her thoughts.

Minerva swallowed awkwardly. 'Albus, I must get these papers, I have no time for games.'

'Then you should have said,' he beamed. She nodded and went to pass him. 'Where are you going?' Albus stopped her.

'I told you!'

'Yes, but -' Albus pointed upwards again to remind her where she stood.

'You can't seriously be suggesting -'

'Am I all that repulsive?'

'No, of course not, but Albus…'

'Sometimes, my dear, you talk too much. Every one deserves a kiss occasionally, no?'

'Well, I suppose so, but we're friends and -'

'You are making an awful lot out of this, Minerva. It is just a kiss.'

'I'm not making a… Albus, no.'

'And why not?' he asked seriously, his hand resting gently on her elbow.

'Albus-'

'Hush,' he ordered, turning her around.

'But-'

'Shush!'

And kissed her.

She would like to have said it lasted forever, but in truth it was over almost as soon as it had begun. A brush of his lips against hers, a gentle, almost non-existent kiss; and her body strung as tight as a bow, her stomach quivering.

'There, that wasn't so bad, was it?' asked Albus.

'No,' she said grudgingly, glaring at him, two high spots of colour burning in her cheeks. 'But don't you dare do it again.'

Dumbledore bowed low, smiling, 'Good night, Minerva,' he said, as he turned and left.

She stared after him, furious with him and herself, already dreading the next few weeks. She had spent years perfecting her control, and then with one kiss, he destroyed it, without a thought for what he was doing to her peace of mind.

She had been in love with him for fifty-six years.

New Years Eve

The staff room was the scene of much merriment, the noisiest it had been all year. Poppers were going off, propelling multi-coloured streamers into the air, and self-floating balloons were everywhere, occasionally colliding with a candle and exploding loudly. Champagne was flowing, little cherubs had been coerced into serving everyone nibblies, and the room was full to the bursting with people; the Professors of Hogwarts had invited friends from outside the school, and there were always a few gatecrashers.

Professor Minerva McGonagall stood slightly to one side, still on her first glass of champagne, and slightly disapproving of the cavalier and undignified way everyone was behaving.

Professor Snape leapt up onto a chair and waved his hands for attention. He had clearly had a little too much to drink; two cherubs were steadying him by gripping his shoulders, and streamers had been entangled in his hair by Professor Mary-Sue.

'Everybody get ready! Let's have a count down, please!' he commanded as everyone turned to him.

'Ten!' began Albus Dumbledore, ridiculously attired in a huge pink and gold robe, holding up his watch. 'Nine!'

'Eight!' shouted several others, taking up the count.

'Seven!' shrieked Henny Sprout with Sage Sinistra, Poppy Pomfrey and Vista Vector, all red cheeked and riskily attired in bits of cloth exposing too much skin.

'Six…! Five!' Filius Flitwick yelped as a bellowing Hagrid stood on his toe.

'Four!' screamed everybody; Minerva unwillingly murmured a faint echo.

'Three… Two … One! HAPPY NEW YEAR!' roared Severus, waving his glass around and slopping champagne over Mary, who was reaching up for a kiss.

'Happy New Year!' everyone screamed, and the noise was fit to burst their eardrums. Minerva watched as they predictably turned to whomever was nearest - and cutest - and kissed. She drank some more champagne and withheld a sigh she didn't want to give.

'Happy New Year, Minerva,' greeted a deep voice warmly. Minerva swiveled around, startled.

'Happy New Year, Albus,' she said, nodding her head politely. She still hadn't forgiven him for Christmas night, and turned around again.

'Ahem,' said Albus, clearing his throat to get her attention.

'Yes?' she queried.

'Minerva,' he said, and it almost sounded as if he was laughing. She turned to glare at him. 'Good,' he said, and with no hesitation reached up his hand to gently cup her cheek.

'What -' she tried to ask, but Albus' bright eyes were suddenly much closer and his lips were on hers; and this time it wasn't just a brief brush, instead his lips were firm against hers, and she was sure she would have fallen if his arms hadn't swept around her waist and pulled her against him.

She didn't have a clue what had come over the man she had known for so many years - this was the first time he had ever behaved so oddly, well, oddly like this, anyhow. And then she didn't care to analyse his reasons - she cautiously kissed him back, scared and excited in a way she had thought never to feel; her stomach turned somersaults as his hands slowly curved her to him. He was all angles and firmness, she was soft and rounded; his robes were soft and he smelt of books, musty tomes and herb soap, and was that just a hint of sherbet on his lips? she couldn't quite repress a smile.

'Something amusing, Minerva?' Albus asked, withdrawing slightly.

'You and your sweets,' she said, and then flushed pink. He laughed.

'Did you get what you wanted for Christmas, Minerva?' he asked airily.

'I… I, er,' she stuttered, beginning to feel embarrassed. Was this all just an elaborate sham? Surely Albus wouldn't be so cruel…

'I did,' said Albus. He smiled and his silver moustache twitched. He leaned forward, his beard brushing her cheek as he whispered in her ear: 'I got a kiss from my one true love.'

It took a second or four to sink in, and then Minerva's incredulous face told her disbelief more eloquently than any words.

'Perhaps,' Albus murmured, a devilish grin on his face, 'we should go upstairs so that I might prove it to you.'

'Have you had too much to drink?' asked Minerva, pursing her lips disapprovingly.

'I think I've had just enough,' said Albus.

'Quite,' she said dryly, but couldn't "quite" repress a euphoric smile.

More Author's Notes… Admittedly slightly tongue-in-cheek, and completely without any particular merit, no plot, no real character development and a huge lack of any descriptive passages… he! T'was Great Fun

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Merry Christmas Everybody!