A/N: I'm not too happy with this one (lol), but it is the 3rd part of "Sweet Somniloquy" and "Somnambulism". It'd be great if you started with those, but you definatly don't have to do that to understand. Yep, still told in Rolanda's POV.

Insomnia

I was sleeping very soundly in my soft, warm bed until rudely awakened by a frantic rapping at my door. I glanced at the clock. 2:30 AM. I groaned and shoved my head under the pillow. It was entirely too early for visitors, but I had a feeling that this one, unless I gave in soon, would be persistent until death- my death, that is.

"Rolanda! Rolanda, I know you're awake!" Minerva called through the door.

Tell me, what have I ever done to deserve this?

I stumbled out of bed and opened the door to find Minerva looking quite casual, as if intruding on someone's precious sleep was a common thing for her.

"Yes?" I said, my eyes drooping slowly.

"I can't sleep," she said in a tone that implied I should have known this already.

I ushered her inside with a sigh. So much for my beauty sleep!

"Have you been drinking coffee?" I asked.

Minerva seemed jittery, but it could possibly have been a reaction to the change in her sleeping potion that Poppy prescribed her. The new, improved potion fought the earlier side effects of sleepwalking.

"No, hot chocolate," she said.

"You visited Dumbledore?"

I could tell it was so by the odd way she twisted her mouth to fight a grin. She nodded.

"What on earth was he doing awake this early in the morning? No one in their right mind... No offense!"

Minerva glared at me but in the playful, friendly fashion I was used to seeing.

"None taken. He and I simply talked and played a game of chess," she said with a shrug. "Rolanda, wake up!"

My eyes snapped open, and I let out another annoyed groan.

"But Minerva, I need sleep!" I exclaimed.

Minerva stood up.

"Thanks for your help," she said sarcastically.

"I'm your best friend," I said. "You know I'm here for you, but you also know I'm not a morning person. I promise I'll go with you later to see Poppy and try to get this figured out.

She nodded, turned on her heel, and left the room. I crawled back into bed to enjoy the last few hours of my much needed rest.


"She gave me a pamphlet," Minerva said, tossing it onto her desk and looking as if it was the most ridiculous thing she had ever seen.

Minerva's meeting with Poppy had been much shorter than I expected.

"And she said there's nothing wrong with the sleeping potion. There are things I can do myself to help fall asleep and relax more."

"What kind of things?" I asked curiously.

She opened the pamphlet and read:

"Transient insomnia can be prevented and/or treated by avoiding caffeine, exercising earlier in the day, listening to calm, relaxing music, and..."

Minerva's face blushed deeply as her words faded.

"What?" I asked.

I attempted to take the pamphlet from her hands, but she quickly snatched it from my reach.

"It's nothing," she said.

"I want to know! What is it?"

She mumbled something through gritted teeth.

"...Hexual captivity?" I said.

I failed to see how that tied into the prevention and treatments for insomnia.

"Sexual activity," she said in a louder, clearer voice.

"Oh! I'm sure Dumbledore can help you with that one," I giggled.

I ducked as Minerva threw a particularly heavy paperweight at my head.


"You seem to be in high spirits," I said to Minerva the next morning at breakfast.

She had not awakened me in the night, of which I was very thankful, and she was currently grinning almost from ear to ear.

"Mm, I slept marvelously last night. Albus helped me to try a few of the techniques on the pamphlet," she said.

I looked at Dumbledore, whose grin perfectly matched Minerva's.

"I was afraid of that," I said.

"Yes, it was wonderful," she went on. "Albus is multi-talented. I was very pleased."

I grimaced and pushed away my plate of half-eaten food. This was far too much information for me to handle.

"He has wonderful hands," Minerva said with a nod.

She patted me on the back as I began to chock on my pumpkin juice.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

"Just marvelous," I muttered.

Minerva's face blanched.

"Rolanda, what are you thinking!" she stammered. "We didn't-! Albus is a harpist! He helped me sleep by playing music before I went to bed."

"I knew that!" I lied.

A harpist? Sure, that's what they all say!

THE END