Hi Everyone! This is a VERY long oneshot that I felt like writing just for fun - it's my first Harry Potter fic, so please be kind and excuse all out-of-character moments... especially Snape, who is meant to be a bit out-of-character to add some amusement. I actually based my Snape off of the artwork of an incredibly talented fan artist who goes by the name Makani - her drawings are amazing and often quite hilarious, and I would highly recommend them for anyone who likes fan art (unfortunately, I can't create a link to her webpage here... try Googling "acciobrain!" and clicking on the first page that comes up).

As you all undoubtably already know, all HP rights belong to the amazingly creative JK Rowling.

Birthday Cake

Monday morning began just as it always did for the staff at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Yawning as she walked into the staffroom, Pomona Sprout threw herself into a chair next to her friend Minerva McGonagall, who was stirring her black coffee with a spoon purely out of exhausted boredom (as she had put no cream into the cup). Across the table, Filius Flitwick was cheerfully humming to himself as he put a few spoonfuls of brown sugar onto his porridge; Aurora Sinistra and Charity Burbage were reading the sports section of the Daily Prophet over each other's shoulder, and Rolanda Hooch was perusing the article on the front section of the Prophet. Argus Filch was sitting at one end of the table, looking even more grumpy than usual in the morning, and trying to keep Mrs. Norris from jumping onto the table. At the far end of the table, Dolores Jane Umbridge was spooning a sickening amount of honey into her cup of tea; next to her, Poppy Pomfrey was sipping a cup of herbal tea and shooting dirty looks at the toad-like witch (though whether this was because of the unhealthy nature of Umbridge's chosen drink, or simply because of Poppy's general dislike of the woman herself, it was hard to say).

Professors Septima Vector, Sybill Trelawney and Cuthbert Binns, along with Irma Pince, Firenze the centaur, and Rubeus Hagrid, were not in the staff room. Professor Vector and Madam Pince were both late sleepers who preferred to wake up only minutes before breakfast began in the Great Hall, rather than join their colleagues beforehand in the staff room; Professor Trelawney had locked herself in her tower a few weeks earlier and had not been seen more than twice by anyone in the castle since; Professor Binns had been dead for several decades and did not feel the need to drink coffee or to be sociable; Hagrid usually stayed in his cabin with Fang the boarhound until breakfast; and Firenze preferred to stay in his classroom-turned-forest throughout meals.

The door of the staffroom opened, and in swooped Severus Snape, looking as bat-like as ever, albeit slightly more groggy. He crumpled into the chair next to Pomona, his hair curtaining his face, and seized a cup of coffee and a crumpet.

'Morning, Severus,' said Minerva. 'Lovely to see you looking so alert and chipper at this early hour…'

Severus grunted in reply and began to spread jam onto his crumpet, his hair still obscuring all but his hooked nose.

'So, you two,' squeaked Filius brightly (Pomona and Minerva shot each other disgusted looks and wondered for the umpteenth time how the little old Charms teacher could manage to be so cheery early on a Monday morning), 'dare I ask what you have gotten Albus for his birthday?'

There was a loud spluttering noise as Minerva choked on her coffee; simultaneously, Pomona, staring in shock at Filius, dropped the cup she had just picked up; and Severus, who finally seemed to have woken up completely, brushed half of his greasy hair out of his face, and grumbled, 'Please tell me you're playing an extremely nasty and undeserved trick on us, Filius.'

'Not at all, my good fellow!' cried Filius, clapping Severus on the arm. 'Today is his 150th birthday – didn't you have that written on your calendars?'

'No,' muttered the three embarrassed Heads of Houses in unison.

'Amazing,' smirked Rolanda, nudging a disgruntled Minerva with her elbow. 'I'd have expected the Deputy Headmistress at the very least to have been organized enough to remember the Headmaster's birthday…'

'I have quite enough on my plate as it is Rolanda, thank you very much,' snapped Minerva, in no mood for putting up with her colleague's teasing. Rolanda watched as Minerva shot Umbridge a venomous glare and suddenly felt sorry for having said anything – Umbridge was certainly going the extra mile to make Minerva's life in particular a living hell.

'So you all have presents for Albus already?' said Pomona in exasperation. The rest of the table (except for Umbridge) nodded.

'Splendid,' muttered Severus. 'Absolutely corking. We three – all Heads of Houses, I might add – are going to look like absolute imbeciles in front of the Headmaster.'

'Well, now, isn't that a pity?' simpered Umbridge (Minerva closed her eyes, willing herself not to pull out her wand and curse Umbridge into oblivion). 'During these trying times for the poor Headmaster, to think that his own closest friends have forgotten something as important as his birthday…'

'You know, at this point I'm sure that Albus has had so many birthdays that he doesn't care much whether people remember them or not,' cut in Poppy, frowning at Umbridge as though she was a rather unpleasant Flobberworm that had ended up seated next to her at the staff table.

'True, true,' said Charity, nodding sagely. 'Besides, I daresay he has enough books to last him a lifetime, and that's all I can ever think to get him…'

The rest of the teachers murmured in agreement, nodding; Aurora and Charity quickly became engaged in a discussion about how impossible men were to shop for. Poppy would have laughed at the stricken looks on Minerva, Pomona, and Severus's faces if Umbridge had not been getting to her feet to leave, still smirking. She leaned across Rolanda and tapped Minerva on the shoulder.

'You know, seeing as everyone seems to give Albus books all the time, maybe the three of you could break the trend and do something different,' she said in an undertone.

'Like what?' whispered Minerva desperately.

'Well…' Poppy shrugged. 'As the school nurse, I really shouldn't be suggesting this, but everyone knows that Albus loves sweets – anyone who's ever gotten the password to his office should know that by now.'

'Yes, but Honeydukes will be closed today,' said Minerva, rubbing her forehead with a miserable expression on her face. 'And besides, you just said yourself that it wouldn't be good for his health…'

'For heaven's sake, Minerva, I just told you to ignore that fact for a moment!' laughed Poppy softly. 'Stop being so practical!'

'If you're done leaning across my place setting, Poppy, I think I might put my two Knuts worth in,' said Rolanda, peering over the edge of her newspaper with her hawk-like eyes. 'You could try baking Albus a cake.'

Minerva stared at her.

'Exactly what I was about to suggest!' said Poppy triumphantly, leaning back so that Rolanda could scoot her chair back in towards the table.

'You want Pomona and Severus and me to do what?' said Minerva, looking as though she was not sure whether or not to laugh.

'Have our brilliant colleagues come up with some plan to save our sorry selves, Minerva?' asked Pomona.

'They're suggesting we try baking a cake for Albus,' laughed Minerva, turning to her friend, 'but honestly, it's been years since I've baked anything, let alone a cake…'

'Which is precisely why Albus will appreciate it,' finished Rolanda, putting her paper aside. 'Could you pass the toast, Filius?'

'You know, they do have a point,' said Pomona slowly.

'Don't be ridiculous,' scoffed Minerva. 'What next – you'll be wanting to do it without magic, will you?'

'But wouldn't that make sense!' said Pomona, her face shining with inspiration. 'Just think about it, Minerva – it'd be a present from us to Albus, he'd know we'd put real effort into it, and he wouldn't end up with any more books than he already has.'

'Well…'

'And, if we start to do something stupid, Severus here will be able to correct it,' added Pomona. Severus, who had overheard only his name, frowned darkly.

'What exactly are you getting me involved in, Pomona?' he asked suspiciously.

'Apparently, we're going to bake a cake for Albus's birthday, and you, O Potions Master, are going to make sure that Pomona and I don't poison him by accident,' said Minerva dryly.

'I beg your pardon?' asked Severus in an utterly humourless voice.

'See?' cried Minerva triumphantly. 'Severus agrees with me!'

'Don't be silly, Minerva,' snapped Poppy, waving a hand impatiently in the air. 'I'll be in the Hospital Wing if you do accidentally poison Albus – now, off to the kitchens, all three of you!'

And before Minerva and Severus could protest, Rolanda and Poppy had both waved their wands in the air, causing the sugar tongs to fly behind Minerva and Severus, poking them alternately in the backs as the three Heads of Houses raced out the door of the staff room and down the hall to the kitchens. Rolanda and Poppy collapsed in heaps of laughter as they heard Minerva and Severus yelling curses back down the corridor at them, and old Filius toppled off his bar stool, twittering with mirth.

'Happy baking!' he called out the door after them.

Fred and George Weasley were up early prowling the hallways and looking for the perfect place to set a Portable Swamp, should the opportunity to do so ever arise. At the sound of raised voices and hurrying footsteps, the pair of redheaded troublemakers ducked behind a marble bust to avoid being caught.

'For heaven's sake, Severus, be a gentleman and keep the stupid sugar tongs away from me!' the twins heard Professor McGonagall roar as she sprinted by.

'Thank you so much for giving me a hand, here, Pomona,' panted Snape sarcastically as he raced after Minerva.

'Oh, no trouble at all,' laughed Pomona, bringing up the rear. 'I'm just enjoying watching the two of you…'

As the yelling faded down the corridor, Fred and George turned and stared at each other.

'Merlin's beard… do I even want to know what that was all about?' said George, raising his eyebrows and smirking.

'Probably not,' said Fred, smirking as he stepping out from behind the bust. 'But, George, I do believe we just overhear our dear Head of House and the detestable Potions Master chasing each other up the hall and shouting about sugar tongs.'

'Certainly sounded like it.' George scratched his head, bemused. 'Blimey, this place really is going mad, isn't it?'

'Well, at least we'll now have something to hold over Snape or McG's head if either of them tries to throw us out for... "unruly behaviour," shall we say,' said Fred, reasonably.

'They wouldn't,' said George confidently, 'not if we were doing it as part of an anti-Umbridge campaign.'

'Well, McGonagall might let us off the line if she knew, but Snape… not so sure.' Fred winked roguishly. ' "Sugar tongs" is the key, then, right?'

'Definitely,' sniggered George. 'You do know that Mum would kill us if she found out we were planning to blackmail our teachers?'

'Who ever said we ever would blackmail them?' said Fred with a deceptively innocent look. 'I just said if either of them tries to throw us out…'

Snickering, the Weasley twins followed the sound of the shouting up the hallway.

Minerva and Severus tripped over the doorstep to the kitchens and fell onto the floor, gasping, followed shortly by Pomona, who was panting from a combination of running and laughter. The sugar tongs fell to the floor, lifeless – both the Transfiguration teacher and the Potions master glared at them as they clattered to a halt.

'I am going to kill Rolanda and Poppy,' breathed Minerva as she got to her feet, rubbing the back of her neck.

'Damn whoever decided to make those things so sharp,' muttered Severus, who was still sprawled on the floor of the kitchens, his face in his arms.

'Is you all right, sir?' squeaked a house-elf, prodding Severus in the back of the head with one long finger. Severus raised his head off his arms and shot the house elf a venomous glare that sent it scampering across the room in fright.

'Peachy,' snarled Severus, baring his teeth.

'Excellent,' said Pomona, smirking. 'You'd best get up off the floor, then, Severus – I do believe we have some work to do.'

Muttering a string of unintelligible curse words under his breath, Severus rose to his feet and stood next to Minerva – the two had adopted an almost identical pose, arms crossed and a look devoid of amusement etched on their faces.

'Erm,' said Pomona hesitantly – immediately, all of the house-elves turned and gave her their utmost attention. 'Thank you. I was wondering if any of you had a recipe for a cake…'

In a flash, a pair of house-elves sauntered up, carrying between them an old book of recipes.

'Thank you,' said Pomona, surprised at the efficiency of the Hogwarts servants. 'Are you two going to come and help, or am I going to have to bake Albus's cake all by myself?' She shot a disapproving glare at Minerva and Snape.

'A cake for Professor Dumbledore!' squealed an excited voice – to Minerva's amazement, a house-elf with large bat-like ears, enormous round eyes, and a wobbling stack of hats atop his head had begun to bob up and down in glee next to Pomona. Minerva glanced sideways at Severus, and saw the usually serious Potions professor's mouth twitch in amusement.

'Hullo, there,' said Pomona in a friendly voice. 'Yes, we are making a cake for Professor Dumbledore… or at least I am…' She raised an eyebrow at Minerva, who sighed and walked over to the table on which Pomona had placed the book of recipes.

'Flour, eggs, vanilla…' she read. 'Where on earth are we supposed to get all of this?' As if to answer her request, a number of house-elves pushed trays holding the necessary ingredients onto the table.

'Vanilla…' Pomona frowned, picking up a long brown bean and sniffing it. 'Yes, well, I suppose I could grind some vanilla beans up… "Preheat oven to 375 degrees," what does that mean?'

'Severus,' said Minerva sternly, and, sighing grumpily, the Potions Master slouched forward and read through the instructions quickly.

'No instructions on which way to stir,' he muttered as a few house-elves pushed a large cauldron up next to the table. 'How on earth are we supposed to get the mixture to the right colour and consistency if they don't tell us which way we need to stir, and how far apart to add the ingredients?'

'Well, figure it out, will you?' snapped Minerva.

'Dobby knows!' chirped the clothed house-elf, waving his hand in the air as he danced in place (Severus smirked as he realised that this display reminded him forcibly of Hermione Granger in class). 'In cooking, the exact order and timing of the addition of ingredients does not matter, sir! Nor does the stirring!'

'Oh, good, well, you can do it, then,' said Severus, pushing the house-elf towards the table and heading towards the door; with a lazy flick of her wand and the word, 'Impedimenta,' Pomona slowed Severus in his tracks and dragged him back to the table.

'Don't think you'll get away so easily, Severus – if Minerva has to be put through this, then so do you,' said Pomona sternly. 'And pull your hair back too, let's try not to get any in the batter…'

No one had noticed that the door to the kitchens had opened and two identical redheaded young men had snuck in and quickly hidden behind a few large cases of Firewhiskey.

'I never knew they had Firewhiskey in the kitchens!' whispered George, reading the label on the cases. 'Who do you think drinks it, the teachers?'

'Not all of them, I'm sure,' smirked Fred. 'As amusing as it is to imagine, I can't really see Dumbledore, McG, Snape, and Umbridge getting themselves completely wankered up in Dumbledore's office…'

'Yes, Severus, kindly do not make me suffer through this all alone, after everything we've been through together this morning,' said Minerva sourly as Severus conjured up a black satin ribbon and tied his hair back grouchily. 'Think of it as character building, if it makes you feel any better.'

'You have not been my teacher for the last seventeen years, Minerva, so please stop speaking to me as if I were still one of your students,' hissed Severus in an almost inaudible voice as he smashed eggs violently into the bottom of the cauldron.

'I am well aware of the nature of our relationship, Severus, thank you very much!' snapped Minerva, dumping a cupful of flour into the cauldron.

'Oh, stop bickering you two,' called Pomona from where she was grinding the vanilla beans into a thick, gritty paste. 'You're honestly beginning to sound like an old married couple.' Minerva and Severus both shut up immediately and continued to individually suffer in silence.

Fred and George, who had not heard what Snape had said over the loud splatting noises the eggs were making on the bottom of the cauldron, looked at each other in disgust.

'Ugh, I'm finding out far more about the relationship between McGonagall and Snape than I ever wanted to,' whispered Fred.

'No wonder they're always at each other's throats during Quidditch games – must be their only way of releasing some of their pent-up sexual tension.' George stuck out his tongue in revulsion. 'Merlin, I'd rather have Snape cut my ear off than elaborate on that aspect of his life in my presence...'

'No, no!' shrieked the house-elf with huge eyes, bobbing around the cauldron so that his many hats teetered dangerously. 'Sir, you do not put the eggshells into the cauldron!'

'I'm doing exactly what the book says,' snarled Severus menacingly, 'and it says "add eggs," so that is what I am going to do, damn it!'

'But you will ruin Professor Dumbledore's cake!' The house-elf looked quite put out at the thought.

'And this matters to you, why?' said Severus icily, throwing one last egg, shell and all, into the cauldron for emphasis.

'Professor Dumbledore is very good to the house-elves here at Hogwarts!' squeaked the house-elf, and the nods from the house-elves around him affirmed his statement. 'He lets Dobby work, but he pays Dobby, and he lets Dobby have clothes too!' The house-elf plucked proudly at his sweater, beaming.

Severus snorted. 'Dear me, the world really is going mad,' he muttered. 'House-elves getting paid upon request, Minerva McGonagall baking a birthday cake with my help… things simply could not get any more ludicrous than this…'

But just then they did. The door of the kitchens burst open, and in stumbled none other than Sybill Trelawney, her glasses askew and a sherry bottle clutched in her hand.

'The Inner Eye has told me that you have need of my services!' she cried dramatically, throwing herself into a low bow – she hiccupped unsteadily and toppled to the ground at Severus's feet in a flurry of shawls and beaded necklaces. As if on instinct, a house-elf hurried up and replaced the almost-empty sherry bottle with a filled one.

Minerva rolled her eyes. 'All right, Sybill, you and your Inner Eye can help up if you know anything about baking.'

Sybill rose to her feet unsteadily and regarded the Transfiguration teacher blearily through her glasses. 'Aaaah, yes,' she said in a slurred version of her usual mystical voice. 'Baking… not a good time for that right now, Minerva, Mars is aligned with Jupiter in the sixth house and that means…' She hiccupped.

'I think we'll risk it, Sybill; you see, today is Albus's birthday, and we all have forgotten to get him birthday presents… but I suppose your Inner Eye had already informed you of that, no?'

Pomona smirked, raising her eyebrows at Severus, who was trying to keep from sniggering. Minerva McGonagall had a reputation for being strict with her students, but when she was under stress, her dry sarcasm was enough to intimidate even Severus (although he would never have admitted it). Sybill, however, appeared to be so drunk that even the cold look Minerva was giving her seemed to have no effect.

'My dear,' gasped Sybill, blinking slowly with an expression of horror upon her face. 'I do believe that you are in grave danger!'

Pomona rolled her eyes, unimpressed. Sybill took a deep breath and was about to tell Minerva exactly what horrible fate was to befall her, when she swayed suddenly on the spot and would have fallen to the ground had Severus not caught her at the last minute. Minerva opened her mouth to retort, but just then, into the kitchens walked none other than Dolores Umbridge.

'Yes?' said Minerva, gritting her teeth so tightly that barely any sound came out.

Umbridge looked from Pomona, who had begun pounding the vanilla beans considerably harder at the sight of the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, to Minerva, who had flour powdering the front of her usually immaculate robes, to Severus, who was holding the hiccupping Divination teacher off the ground.

'Oh, I'm so sorry,' she simpered. 'I do hope I'm not interrupting anything?' She smirked at Severus, who realised that he and Sybill were in a most awkward position and quickly placed her on the floor.

'And what brings you to the kitchens today, Dolores?' asked Pomona, frowning darkly at the witch. 'Don't you have a class you should be preparing for?'

'I could ask you the exact thing, Pomona dear,' said Umbridge sweetly, 'although I do believe I have a fairly good idea of what's going on here.'

'Oh?' Minerva threw up her hands in exasperation. 'And what now, is it against Ministry rules to attempt a bit of baking on the Hogwarts premises? Will Dementors come swooping down upon us any minute now for having opened a cookbook? If so, please do enlighten us, Dolores – I'm simply dying to know what I haven't done wrong so I can be sure to reserve myself a nice, cosy cell in Azkaban!'

Fred and George shot each other a look of glee – whatever disturbing relationship might exist between Snape and their Head of House, it was always such fun to hear McGonagall verbally slap Umbridge across the face.

'I daresay that baking when there are ample slaves to do that work is legal, albeit stupid,' said Umbridge lightly, her smile spreading across her wide face. 'However, what you are attempting is far worse, and I'm frankly quite surprised at you in particular, Minerva, considering I always suspected you and the Headmaster were quite a bit closer than just friends.'

'I beg your pardon?' said Minerva, her voice growing dangerous.

'Apparently, I was wrong.' Umbridge smiled sweetly. 'If you and Dumbledore really were romantically involved, I doubt you would be standing here with your three cohorts, plotting to murder him.'

There was a moment of absolute silence as the jaws of the three Heads of Houses dropped in unison. The next minute, all three began to snort with laughter.

'You cannot deny it!' shouted Umbridge, a bit flustered at this reaction. 'Argus overheard you this morning, scheming with Poppy Pomfrey and Rolanda Hooch to put poison in the Headmaster's birthday cake, and told me immediately where you had gone.'

This only made the three professors laugh even harder.

'Murder Dumbledore,' gasped Severus, looking at Umbridge in utter amusement. 'Funny, I'd always thought it was your people back at the Ministry who are out to kill the Headmaster, not us.'

'Don't be stupid,' snapped Umbridge. The toad-like witch was rather unnerved to note that when the Potions Master had his hair tied back off of his face, which shone with laughter, he looked so much happier and more agreeable than usual… almost handsome… She shook her head and tried to stop feeling flustered. 'Cornelius wants Dumbledore locked up and silenced, certainly, but if You-Know-Who ever did actually come back… well, let's just say that Cornelius would much rather have Dumbledore around than not.'

'Glad you admit it,' sniggered Pomona. 'So you're afraid that we are trying to deprive the Ministry of the only person who offers it any brains, is that what you're saying?'

'The only person who offers the Ministry any brains?' Umbridge sniffed imperiously. 'Certainly not – do you think I managed to work my way up to the post of Hogwarts High Inquisitor without having a touch of genius myself?'

This was simply too much for the other professors. Severus howled with laughter, clutching the side of the cauldron for support and tipping it over accidentally; Pomona was choking on her giggles and pounding the table with her fist, which unfortunately still held the pestle she had been using to crush vanilla beans and now was denting the table quite badly; and Minerva was holding her sides, shaking with silent laughter and not even noticing that strands of her hair were beginning to fall out of her usually neat bun.

'What's so funny?' demanded Umbridge. The teachers just roared even louder with mirth. Umbridge glared at them all sourly. 'I'll go and write an owl to Cornelius this instant, demanding that you all be fired and driven away from the castle… even you,' she added, prodding Sybill's groggy form with her foot. Turning on her heel, Umbridge strode out of the kitchens, muttering darkly to herself.

Behind the cases of Firewhiskey, Fred and George had both stuffed their fists into their mouths to keep from roaring with laughter.

'That toad,' whispered Fred weakly, removing his fist from his mouth. 'A touch of genius in the realm of stupidity, that's what I say…'

'We really must put down the Swamp now, Fred,' replied George in a low voice. 'Just to test her limitless genius…'

'Ten Galleons she won't be able to remove a single drop of water,' sniggered Fred, holding out his hand.

'You're on,' said George quietly, shaking his twin's hand with a wide grin. 'What do you say we throw some fireworks into the mix too?'

'Beautiful,' whispered Fred, his eyes misting over at the thought of Umbridge battling a horde of fireworks. 'Of course, we should make a few minor modifications…'

'And plan a quick getaway in case it doesn't work,' added George.

Just then, a shriek interrupted the twins' scheming.

'SEVERUS SNAPE!' they heard Professor Sprout roar, sounding much more intimidating than they ever would have imagined she could. 'You've ruined it, all of our hard work!'

'Oh damn,' muttered Severus, looking down at the gooey substance that had adhered itself to the hem of his robes. Dobby the house-elf rushed up with a wet rag and began to wipe the batter off of Severus's shoes.

'Sir, if you would like, Dobby can help you put the right ingredients into the cake,' said the house-elf timidly.

Minerva wrinkled her nose at the concoction oozing from the cauldron onto the floor as she pulled her hair back into its usual strict bun. 'That would be most helpful,' she admitted. 'Evanesco.' The cauldron immediately emptied itself.

'Erm, so I suppose we don't need this?' said Pomona, holding up the mortar of black grinds that had been vanilla beans.

'Dobby will fetch vanilla extract,' said the house-elf eagerly, dashing to another part of the kitchen.

'Oh, is that what they wanted?' said Pomona irritably, waving her wand so that the grinds disappeared. 'Pity the book didn't just say so – could've saved me a lot of time…'

'What?' said Minerva exasperatedly to Severus, who was leering at her.

'You seemed to get awfully defensive when Umbridge suggested that you and the Headmaster were… how did she put it? Romantically involved.'

Minerva sniffed. 'We certainly are not,' she said icily. 'Albus may be one of my closest friends and my mentor, but our relationship has always been strictly platonic.'

'Really,' said Severus, looking completely unconvinced.

Minerva rolled her eyes. 'Really. I give you full permission to force Veritaserum down my throat and ask the same question – I assure you, I will give you the same answer.'

'I might just have to try that,' smirked Severus as Dobby reappeared carrying a tray laden with fresh ingredients. He pulled a small bottle filled with a clear potion out of his pocket and shook it so that tiny bubbles floated through it.

'Only you would carry Veritaserum in your pocket, Severus,' sighed Minerva, conjuring a cup out of thin air and holding it out to Severus. To her surprise, Severus frowned slightly in disappointment and put the bottle back into his pocket.

'What? Afraid of being proven wrong, Severus?' taunted Minerva.

'You obviously have nothing to hide, Minerva, otherwise you would not be so willing to take Veritaserum,' replied Severus grouchily. 'I must therefore conclude that you are telling the truth and nothing but the truth.'

'Well, thank you for believing me,' said Minerva, Vanishing the cup with a wave of her wand.

'Hmm… does all that constitute as flirting?' Fred asked George in an undertone.

'No idea,' whispered George, 'I suppose it might be the way older people flirt, but I'm really not sure…'

'All right, you two, put the potions away unless you're planning to put them in that cake,' admonished Pomona, measuring vanilla extract into a spoon and dumping it into the cauldron. 'Dobby, would you go show Severus how to add eggs to the cauldron correctly?'

'Certainly, Professor!' squeaked Dobby, darting to Severus's side and demonstrating.

'Does the recipe call for cooking sherry?' asked Sybill, staggering woozily to her feet with her bottle aloft.

'No it doesn't,' said Minerva quickly. 'Er, Sybill, why don't you go and sit down and have a nice cup of tea or something, instead of that cooking sherry?' Holding a cup filled with flour in one hand, Minerva managed to steer Sybill to a nearby bench before she collapsed again. A house-elf pushed a cup of tea into Sybill's hands and gently prised away the bottle of sherry; Sybill drank the entire cup in one gulp, hiccupped, and began to turn the cup, mumbling inaudibly to herself about whatever she saw in the tea leaves.

'Death… and more death… and, dear me, the Grim again…'

'Whose?' asked Severus in a bored voice.

'Harry Potter,' whispered Sybill, her magnified eyes beginning to fill with tears.

'For the last time, Sybill, stop predicting Harry's death!' snapped Minerva, who was very defensive of her Gryffindors in general, but took particular offence when Harry was the object of insult. 'Goodness knows the boy has enough problems already.'

'Too true,' muttered Fred to George, 'and she doesn't even know about the DA…'

'Or Cho,' added George, sniggering.

'I am only making clear what the Inner Eye has chosen for me to see,' said Sybill.

'That does it!' Minerva threw down the spoon she had been using to stir the cake batter. 'I am through with this! I am sick and tired of you pretending like Harry is going to drop down dead any minute now, Sybill – stop looking so pleased at that thought, Severus – and I won't stand for it any more! And don't you even think of stopping me, Pomona,' she snarled, whipping out her wand, 'you should have seen the effect all of Sybill's nonsense had on Potter when she started up with the death predictions, it had the whole class shaken up…'

'I understand completely, Minerva,' said Pomona soothingly, 'but breakfast doesn't start for another half hour, so you're going to stay and help.'

'Watch me,' said Minerva angrily.

'I wouldn't test her nerves, Pomona,' smirked Severus, 'she seems a bit on the edge today…'

'Kindly do shut up before I jinx you, Severus – how would you like it if it was Draco Malfoy whose death was being predicted every two minutes?'

'How about this?' said Pomona loudly. 'I'll take Sybill back up to her tower, and the two of you can stay right here until I get back? Oh, and Dobby,' she added, turning to the house-elf, 'please make sure that neither of them leave this kitchen until that cake has been decorated down to the last candle.'

'Yes, Professor!' squeaked Dobby, snapping his heels into a salute and knocking some of his hats off.

'Excellent,' said Pomona, smirking at her colleagues. 'Come on, Sybill, let's get you back to your room, shall we…'

Sybill, who was staring a bit timidly at Minerva, allowed herself to be led out of the kitchens by Pomona. Severus waited about three seconds after Pomona had left and headed for the exit, but the second he got within two feet of the door, he was thrown back as if an invisible force-field had been set up around it.

'Sorry, sir,' said Dobby apologetically, 'but Dobby is forced to obey orders given to him by any professor at Hogwarts…'

'Well, here's an order for you, then,' hissed Severus. 'Let me out of this bloody kitchen!'

'Dobby cannot,' explained the house-elf. 'House-elves must obey the first order given to them by a master or mistress before they can move on to the next.'

'Damn it!' groaned Severus. 'So I'm stuck here with Miss Mood-Swings McGonagall, who will probably either curse me or try to give me detention before the quarter hour is up, and a bunch of disgustingly-servile house-elves who think that baking cakes is wonderful fun!'

'Where do all those hats come from?' asked Minerva, stirring the cake batter. She glared at Severus, who had just thrown himself into a chair and seemed quite intent on not moving a muscle until Pomona returned and he could make his escape.

Dobby wiggled his ears in delight at the thought of his hats. 'She leaves them in the common-room, ma'am!' he said happily. 'Miss Hermione Granger, the Muggle-born friend of the great and famous Harry Potter!'

Severus snorted loudly. So did Fred and George, who had come face-to-face with Hermione's SPEW fervour in the past.

'Does she?' asked Minerva, trying not to laugh. 'And you've been keeping them all for yourself?'

'None of the other house-elves seems to want them, Professor,' said Dobby a bit sadly. 'But Dobby likes them, so Dobby keeps them. And Dobby has begun to knit himself!' The little house-elf drew himself up proudly. Severus rolled his eyes.

'How nice,' replied Minerva diplomatically. Dobby, struck by inspiration, rushed over to a cupboard and drew out a pair of knitting needles and a few pairs of knobbly, hand-knitted socks.

'Dobby would like to give Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape a pair of socks each that he himself has made,' he said shyly, holding out the socks. 'And one for Professor Sprout too, when she returns.' Severus opened his mouth to make a scathing remark, but a glare from Minerva made him shut it again.

'Thank you very much, Dobby,' said Minerva with dignity, putting down her spoon and accepting the gift of socks as though she did this every day. The socks were surprisingly soft and warm, and Minerva was pleased (in what she acknowledged to be a very juvenile way) to see that they were knitted in Gryffindor scarlet and gold. She pocketed them.

Fred and George were both shaking with repressed laughter at this point.

'We really should see what the teachers get up to more often,' whispered George.

'Definitely,' replied Fred, 'it's so much more interesting than what any of the students ever do, I'm sure…'

'Severus!' said Minerva sharply as she turned back towards the cauldron. Severus leapt backwards, not retracting his hand quickly enough to hide the tiny bottle he had been holding over the cauldron.

'What did you just put into Albus's birthday cake?' hissed Minerva menacingly as she advanced towards Severus. 'I stand by what I said before about Veritaserum, Severus, and if you wish to have me drink some I would much prefer if you at least informed me first.'

'It wasn't Veritaserum,' Severus whispered back.

'Oh? Then what was it?'

Severus glanced about and looked down. 'Felix Felicis,' he said softly.

'What did he say?' George whispered.

'Dunno,' answered Fred, pressing his cheek against the crates of Firewhiskey as if it would enable him to hear more clearly.

Minerva stared at Severus for a minute and then began to laugh. 'You do know that the Ministry would arrest you and send you to Azkaban for that, do you not?' she said. 'Besides, whatever would you do it for?'

Severus raised his eyebrows. 'To get a certain someone out of the way,' he said cryptically. Minerva stared sternly at him, trying to figure out if Severus meant that he was conniving to have her fired, until Severus quite unexpectedly winked at her. 'Excuse the ambiguity, but I figure it is probably best not to let the house-elves hear too much in case certain, ah, authority figures start asking too many questions.'

Minerva dissolved into giggles, realising that the person to whom Severus was referring to was none other than Umbridge.

'Brilliant,' she said. 'But of course – that would be only too easy, especially we've poisoned the cake, remember? Oh, it will be a glorious day when we gain full control of the school again…' Minerva smirked, imagining a whole Hogwarts filled with extra-lucky teachers, all picketing the Ministry to get rid of Umbridge, who would of course be sitting in the corner refusing to touch any of Albus's allegedly-poisoned cake…

'Go ahead and pour the rest of that bottle into the cauldron with my blessing, Severus!' Minerva smiled triumphantly, envisioning Umbridge's disgraceful departure from the castle, as Severus melodramatically emptied the rest of the golden potion into the cauldron.

'Did you just hear what I heard?' whispered Fred, tearing his ear away from the crate of Firewhiskey.

'No way,' muttered George, his jaw hanging. 'McG and Snape really are scheming to poison Dumbledore, and take over Hogwarts together!'

'This is insane,' said Fred in a disbelieving voice, running his fingers through his hair. 'I mean, Snape, who's practically a Death Eater, that's not too surprising… but McGonagall?'

'Bizarre, isn't it?' whispered George. 'Guess being in love really does make people do crazy things sometimes… course, why she'd choose Snape of all people…'

'Git,' whispered Fred. 'Still, we've got to do something to stop them from killing Dumbledore.'

'And the rest of the teachers too, don't forget that Sprout probably doesn't realise that Snape just put poison into the cake,' George reminded his twin, his face growing serious.

'What is you doing, Professor Snape?' squeaked Dobby as Severus let the last drop of Felix Felicis drip into the cauldron with a flick of his wrist.

'Nothing,' said Severus hastily, whipping the now-empty bottle back into his robes. 'Anti-arthritic potion for the Headmaster, he never takes it on his own, and I thought this might be an excellent opportunity for us to make sure his joints remain bendable…'

'Nice cover-up,' said Minerva, grinning at Severus as Dobby bowed and hurried away. 'Ah, excellent, the batter's uniform throughout, just like the cookbook says, which means we should probably begin to bake it…'

'What are we going to do?' asked George frantically.

'Leave it to me,' muttered Fred, pulling a Dungbomb out of his pocket and prodding into flame with his wand.

'You know, Minerva, I never thought you'd agree to this,' said Severus, picking up one end of the cauldron. 'You've always seemed like the type who would adhere to the rules at all costs…'

Minerva shrugged and picked up the other end of the cauldron so she could help Severus pour the batter into the cake mold. 'Well, I suppose when one hates a person and what they stand for enough, anything is possible…'

'NOW!' roared George. Fred stood up quickly and launched the Dungbomb over the crates and directly into the cauldron of batter. He had just enough time to see McGonagall and Snape's surprised faces before the Dungbomb exploded. Sticky cake batter flew everywhere, house-elves were squealing in shock and running all about the kitchens, Fred ducked just a bit too late and got cake batter all in his hair, and both Minerva and Severus found themselves instantly covered from head to toe in batter.

'What… the hell… was THAT?' growled Severus, wiping batter away from his eyes. Minerva coughed and scraped batter off of her glasses, which had kept only her eyes from being obscured by batter. When she put them on, her eyes immediately fell upon the Weasley twins, who had just made the mistake of standing up in hopes of making a quick getaway.

'Fred! George!' The two boys froze. 'Get over here right now, both of you!'

'Oh bugger,' moaned George. 'She's going to kill us, I know she's going to kill us…'

'Or, if she doesn't, Mum will,' muttered Fred, glancing about for a quick escape route.

Professor McGonagall loomed above them, looking more angry than they had ever seen her before.

'What,' she hissed, 'are you doing here?'

Fred glanced up at her, and, realising he was doomed anyway, was suddenly filled with a sort of desperate courage.

'Safeguarding the lives of our fellow students, our other professors, and our beloved Headmaster,' he said clearly.

Minerva blinked. 'I beg your pardon?'

'Well, Professor,' said Fred a little louder, straightening up and looking his Head of House directly in the eye, 'we just overheard you and Professor Snape, your greasy love interest here, discussing how you were going to do Professor Dumbledore in by poisoning his birthday cake, and then take over Hogwarts together.'

Minerva's jaw dropped in shock.

'What did you say?' whispered Severus in a menacing voice.

'You heard what he said.' George stepped forward to join his twin, his voice shaking considerably more. 'We've just stopped you from committing murder. We heard you say you'd put poison in the cake to get rid of a certain someone, and we couldn't let that happen, sorry to say.'

In a flash, Fred and George had pulled out their wands and pointed them at their professors; however, they had forgotten that, as useful as Dumbledore's Army was, they were now facing two of the most skilled members of the Order of the Phoenix. Before either twin could open his mouth, they both had been quickly disarmed. Severus and Minerva glanced at each other, and burst into a fresh peal of laughter. Fred and George looked at each other, bewildered.

'Well, go ahead and kill us, if you must, it really isn't kind of you to make us wait in suspense,' said Fred loudly.

'Oh, that's revolting,' gasped Minerva, leaning against the table for support. 'The mere thought of you being my lover is…'

'Something I don't even want to begin contemplating, indeed,' choked Severus, wiping batter from his forehead. 'Whatever gave them that idea?'

'Erm, something we overheard you saying earlier today about poking each other with sugar tongs,' admitted George, 'we thought it sounded a bit kinky or something.'

The two professors howled even louder.

'Oh, I am going to kill Poppy and Rolanda!' Minerva guffawed.

'I'll second you on that,' chuckled Severus.

'You see!' said Fred, pointing an accusatory finger at the pair. 'They just admitted their homicidal tendencies!'

'Don't be stupid, Fred,' said Minerva, trying her best to sound strict but finding it rather difficult as she was still giggling. 'It's a commonly-used expression.'

'What on earth is going on here?'

Pomona had just reappeared in the doorway. She stared about the batter-covered room in amazement.

'Dare I even ask what the two of you got up to while I was gone?'

'Professor!' said George quickly, striding up to the Herbology teacher. 'We need to go and get Professor Dumbledore as quickly as possible!'

'But… but his cake isn't done yet!' said Pomona in confusion, trying to figure out how exactly the Weasley twins had appeared in the kitchen.

'No, indeed, it's rather nonexistent at this point,' said Minerva dryly to Severus, who smirked.

'Professor, that really doesn't matter right now!' George looked at her earnestly. 'The most important thing right now is for us to tell Professor Dumbledore about the recently-uncovered attempt on his life!'

'Good heavens,' said Pomona, spinning around quickly. 'You're not saying that Umbridge came back in here while I was gone?'

'No, Professor! It wasn't Umbridge who tried to kill Dumbledore – it was them!' George pointed dramatically at Minerva and Severus while Fred nodded solemnly behind his twin.

Pomona blinked. 'What? How… Minerva, Severus, what's going on here?'

'Well,' began Minerva loudly before Severus could open his mouth, 'it all started when Severus here decided it might be a good idea to break the law and put a strictly-monitored potion into Albus's birthday cake.'

'You what?' A stricken expression came over Pomona's face and she shot a worried look in the direction of the Weasley twins.

'Don't be silly, Pomona, it wasn't poison!' said Minerva impatiently.

'Well then what was it?'

'Felix Felicis,' answered Minerva promptly. 'He was hoping that if enough of us ate Albus's birthday cake and became lucky, we might be able to convince Fudge to remove a certain unwanted presence from our midst.'

'Mind you, Umbridge would probably not have taken any of the cake anyway, seeing as she thought it was poisoned, which meant luck for all of us and none for her,' added Severus. 'Obviously, even someone as law-abiding as Minerva could not pass up such an opportunity. Only now, thanks to the interference of these two Gryffindors…' Severus leaned extra emphasis on this last word and raised an eyebrow at Minerva, who pointedly ignored him '… our plan has been completely ruined and we are once again left with no birthday present for Dumbledore.'

The twins glanced at each other.

'Oh. Well, I feel rather stupid now,' said Fred, his face slowly turning red.

'Yeah, please feel free to forget everything we just said,' added George. 'So, erm, if you don't mind, we'll just take our wands and go…'

'Not so fast,' snarled Severus, moving towards the twins and somehow managing to look menacing even when covered in batter. 'I do think that some form of punishment is in order for accusing teachers of everything from having wild affairs with each other, to conspiring to murder the Headmaster… not to mention that you were prowling the halls a good hour before you are even supposed to be awake.'

'Oh, let them alone, Severus,' said Minerva sharply, obviously thinking of the damages that could be inflicted on Gryffindor's chances of winning the House Cup. 'I say we write to Molly and leave it at that.'

The twins' jaws dropped in horror.

'No, no, we'll take the school punishment!' said George quickly, looking stricken.

'Yeah, you can let Filch hang us by our toenails from the rafters of the dungeons, or whatever he's always wanting to do to us,' added Fred.

'Certainly not,' said Pomona strictly.

'We could always let both Molly and Argus punish them,' suggested Severus hopefully.

'Well I have an even better idea,' said Minerva pointedly to Severus. 'What if we let Fred and George off just this once, with the promise that they will not start to spread any unpleasant rumours about any of us?'

'That sounds excellent,' replied the twins in unison.

'And as I am their Head of House, it is ultimately up to me to distribute their punishment,' said Minerva, shifting her weight off the table so that she could stand as tall as she possibly could. 'Mind you two, if I hear one mention of sugar tongs, I will most certainly write to your mother and not feel the least bit remorseful about anything she does to you.'

Fred and George nodded mutely and took their wands back from the Transfiguration professor.

'Good, then.' Minerva strode to the door of the kitchens and opened it for the Weasley twins. 'Oh, and boys?' She lowered her voice conspiratorially as Fred and George paused in the doorway. 'Do try your best to make Umbridge's life a living hell, will you? I swear to turn a blind eye if you do.'

'Wicked!' whispered both twins in unison. Minerva tried not to laugh at the looks of elation that had just appeared on their faces.

'Now good day to you both,' she said in a louder voice. She acknowledged the identical grins the twins gave her with a tiny wink, and closed the door behind them.

'Well, no one can say that this has been a boring morning,' sighed Severus, seating himself on a bench and lazily siphoning batter out of his hair with his wand. 'Now, Pomona, if you had just let me go when I wanted, none of this would have ever happened…'

'Stop whining, Severus,' said Pomona in exasperation. 'What's done is done, and unfortunately, we have once again found ourselves without a present for Albus. Oh, would you mind terribly cleaning up this mess?' Pomona grinned hopefully at the house-elves that had been watching the goings-on in the kitchens from the edges of the room – in a flash, they had brought out mops and buckets, all smiling and bowing graciously.

'Thank you,' sighed Minerva, quite glad that she was not a house-elf. Dobby bowed low to her, dropping a few of his knitted hats into the mess of batter in the process. Minerva frowned, hoping very much that the batter would wash out of the hats (and her hair as well, she was hoping very much to be able to take a shower before going down to breakfast)… and then, quite suddenly, she was struck by an idea.

'Pomona, Severus,' she called, 'I think I know what we can give Dumbledore…'

The staff room was decorated with silver and gold banners, and a large Hogwarts crest hung on the wall behind the head of the table. The professors of Hogwarts, dressed in their best evening robes for this soirée, stood in groups discussing news and swapping gossip, clutching glasses of champagne and goblets of Firewhiskey. Soft chamber music was magically drifting from the ceiling, from which hung several large lamps that glowed with a soft golden light. A large, half-devoured cake covered in candles that emitted brightly coloured sparks sat in the middle of the dessert table – the house-elves had quickly sent the three Hogwarts professors off to shower before their first classes began and had taken over the cake-baking operation with a great deal of relief.

Albus Dumbledore moved about these groups, clad in black robes studded with embroidered silver stars that matched his long beard. He manoeuvred his way through the crowd to stand next to Minerva and offered her a glass of champagne, which she declined with a slight shake of her head.

'You don't always have to be quite so rigid in your habits, Minerva,' laughed Albus. 'It is quite all right to have a drink or two once in a while, as long as you don't go overboard.'

Minerva hesitated for a moment, and, for the second time that day, decided to hang the rules.

'Happy birthday, Albus,' she said, toasting him before taking a sip of champagne. Albus winked at his second-in-command, pleased to see that she did allow herself a bit of amusement now and then.

'I hear a few of my staff members caused quite a commotion down in the kitchens before breakfast this morning,' said Albus casually. Minerva nearly spat the champagne back into her glass.

'Oh?' she managed to say between coughs.

'Yes,' said Albus. 'Apparently, our dear High Inquisitor was told by a most unreliable source that a few of my closest friends were planning to slip some poison into my birthday cake… which is, of course, a ridiculous proposition.' He raised an eyebrow at Minerva.

'Indeed,' she replied, her expression unreadable.

Albus glanced around and leaned closer towards Minerva. 'I think it would probably be advisable to leave the baking to the house-elves in the future, Minerva,' he said quietly, 'they do get real enjoyment out of it, as you might have noticed. Not to insult your cooking abilities, of course…'

'Insult away,' sighed Minerva. 'I doubt that Severus, Pomona, and I could have made a decent omelette between the three of us had we been trained at the finest culinary schools in France.'

'Well, I hope you will tell Pomona and Severus that I deeply appreciate the gesture, at the very least,' said Albus with another wink.

'Albus, when you're through talking with Minerva, you really should come and open a few presents!' called Poppy across the room. Both she and Rolanda had had a bit too much to drink and were telling rather embarrassing stories about people they knew in loud voices – Minerva caught Severus's eye from across the room and knew that he too was hoping that nothing about sugar tongs would be mentioned.

'Dear me, it does look as though Poppy is thoroughly intoxicated,' remarked Albus. 'Let's just hope that no one is in desperate need of medical attention tonight…'

'Perhaps we should arrange for our dear Dolores to take a nasty fall down the stairs tonight, then?' muttered Minerva. Albus quickly turned his laugh into a cough to clear his throat.

Considering Albus Dumbledore's wide range of interests, it was rather remarkable how many people insisted on giving him strictly academic books. Gracious as always, he unwrapped each with a genuine smile that remained on his face as he exclaimed over the new tome and thanked whoever had given it to him. Pomona and Severus glanced at each other in surprise as they noticed that Albus was deliberately avoiding opening the one package that was not shaped in any way like a book. He's going to hate it, thought Severus grumpily, he's going to think we're absolute imbeciles for this… I'll be sure to mention in passing that it was Minerva's idea entirely…

Finally, there were no more books to unwrap, and Albus picked up the last parcel, feeling it curiously through the wrapping.

'It's a joint gift from the three of us,' explained Pomona, gesturing to herself, Severus and Minerva.

'Minerva's idea, of course,' added Severus quickly, attempting to disassociate himself from the gift as much as possible without detaching himself completely.

Albus raised an eyebrow curiously and slowly unwrapped three sets of knobbly, hand-knitted scarlet-and-gold socks. Umbridge sniffed loudly in what was only too obviously disdain for this meagre offering (which was more than a bit hypocritical, as she had remembered well in advance her employer's 150th birthday and had not even bothered to look for a present). But, to Severus's amazement, the smile on the Headmaster's face spread wider than it had all evening as he felt the soft texture of the socks between two of his long fingers.

'What an amazingly thoughtful gift,' he said softly. 'I could not have wished for anything more.' Albus's eyes, to Severus's shock, were slightly moist as he carefully folded the socks and placed them in his pocket.

'Happy birthday, Headmaster,' said Severus somewhat awkwardly.

'Thank you,' said Albus, smiling as he looked from Severus to Pomona to Minerva. 'Thank you so very much.'

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