In the Staff Room Again

McGonagall sipped her tea at the far side of the table and stared at the mistletoe hanging over the door, wondering if she was being overly cruel by not trying to remove it.

Poppy Pomfrey opened the door before McGonagall had made her decision. Luckily alone, she looked up at the swaying branch.

"Oh dear," she said with a mild grimace. "How terribly reminiscent of Lockhart." She went to sit near McGonagall and joined her in staring at the door.

"Do you think we ought to take it down?" McGonagall asked.

Pomfrey conjured herself an iced tea.

"No," she said. "I wouldn't want to hurt Horace's feelings."

Just then, the door swung wide to reveal Madame Hooch, who gasped and immediately stepped out of range of the mistletoe. Eyeing Pomfrey and McGonagall suspiciously, she sat down.

"You didn't even try to remove that, did you?"

The other teachers looked at each other.

"No," McGonagall said.

Hooch hunkered down to watch the door with them.

"Anybody get stuck together under it?" she asked conversationally.

McGonagall and Pomfrey shook their heads.

"Well, it's bound to happen sometime," Hooch said, and created a milkshake for herself with the air of someone settling down to watch a good game of Quidditch. "By the way, Minerva- excellent game your team played the other day. Too bad for Zacharias Smith... terrible accident with that Weasley girl..."

McGonagall smiled as if she knew she ought not to, sighed, and shook her head.

"That's right- pretend you disapprove. I heard you, laughing in your office all night long," Hooch accused.

"You heard nothing of the sort," McGonagall retorted, and fixed her eyes intently on the door again.

There was silence for a while, and Pomfrey put her head in her hands. She looked tired.

"What is it, Poppy?" Hooch set her milkshake down in concern.

She looked up. "Oh, it's nothing. Just... talking about Quidditch, I was thinking about Miss Bell again... oh dear." She covered her eyes with her hand.

"There's no better place that she could be than at St. Mungo's," McGonagall offered. "I'm sure they can help her there."

"Yes," Pomfrey nodded.

"Hell of a school year this has been," Hooch said sympathetically.

The door opened to Dumbledore's voice saying, "I'm not going to discuss this with you, Severus."

Snape had opened his mouth to argue when Dumbledore held up his hand.

"Oh, gracious," he said tiredly, glancing at the mistletoe, and kissed Snape on the forehead.

Snape jumped as if he'd been bitten and snapped, "What the hell was-"

"Mistletoe, Severus."

Snape looked up at the branch, glared at Dumbledore, and sat in the nearest chair to scarf down some of the pure-caffeine sludge that he liked to call coffee.

"Merry Christmas, all," Dumbledore smiled, drinking a glass of milk.

"Yes," Hooch smiled back. "Cheers, to a great victory by Gryffindor-"

"And Christmas, of course," added Dumbledore.

"And to not having to deal with any psychopathic new Defense Against the Dark Arts teachers," Pomfrey tacked on.

"Well..." Hooch said skeptically, lowering her glass an inch or so.

"Don't even think for a second," Snape spoke as if it were a great burden for him to converse with idiots, "that that implication went over my head, Rolanda."

"What implication?" She sipped her milkshake loudly.

"So-" Horace Slughorn burst in the door enthusiastically. "You're all coming to my Christmas party?"

Snape pointed sourly at the mistletoe. "Was that your doing?"

"Right you are! Who wants a drink to celebrate?"

"Horace, we still have classes to teach," McGonagall protested.

"I never said you had to get plastered, did I?" he defended himself, sitting down with a glass of wine. "Albus? Glass of wine?"

"Thank you, Horace, I have milk."

Sughorn seemed to think that milk was hardly a worthy drink with which to celebrate Christmas, much less an excuse to turn down a glass of good red wine. He decided to let it drop.

"I must say, Albus," Slughorn said, "I forgot how much I loved this job, what with the students-"

"And their famous relatives," Snape said, apparently remembering how much he hated his job.

"Oh, Severus, allow an old man a few weaknesses, please," Slughorn responded agreeably. "Come to the party, meet them, they're all lovely-"

"I've met them all," Snape interrupted, pouring another cup of coffee down his throat as he stood. He went to the door and suddenly stepped back and as far away as he could when it opened. He looked extremely grateful to be anywhere but under the mistletoe as Sybil Trelawney floated into the room. Her enormous eyes drifted over to Dumbledore.

"I know where I am not wanted," she said, and floated out.

"I'm sorry, Sybil," Dumbledore called after her.

"That was awfully rude of her," Pomfrey said.

"Actually," McGonagall said, "I found it convenient." She sipped her tea.

"Going to leave, Severus?" Hooch asked.

"I don't think I dare try," he said, standing beside the door.

"Coward," she said.

"Imbecile."

"Slytherin."

"What was that supposed to mean?"

"It was supposed to mean 'coward.'"

"Indeed?"

"Yes, indeed."

"Well, you already said that, and I already retorted, so I'm going to drop out of this conversation."

"I'll miss your talking," she said nonchalantly.

"Lovely weather," Dumbledore said, and cast a warming charm on his milk.

Slughorn was eyeing Dumbledore's blackened hand.

"You're sure there's nothing else we can to for that?"

"I'm afraid so, Horace," Dumbledore said, shaking his sleeve over it as he drank his milk.

"You know, you might think to ask Harry. Very good student. I'm sure

"I'm sure he couldn't," Snape snapped acidly. "I've done everything I can with it and I'm relatively confident that that's much more than Potter-"

"Harry," Dumbledore corrected calmly.

Snape set his teeth. "Than any sixth year student could do."

Slughorn held his hands up defensively. "No need to bite anyone's head off, Severus."

Although everyone's head remained in tact, Snape seemed to be biting the inside of his cheek with a vengeance.

"It's Christmas Season, after all." Slughorn turned his glass into a record player and classic Christmas tunes started winding out of it.

Snape decided he could take the risk and left.

"Oh my," Pomfrey said, remembering the time, "I have to get back."

Hooch flew up out of her chair. "Five minutes late for my second-years!" she exclaimed, and fled after Pomfrey. (She miraculously came to a halt inches short of getting caught under the mistletoe with the other woman, and then followed at a safter distance.)

"Well," Slughorn said, standing, "I'll be heading back as well, then. Have to give myself plenty of time to get down those stairs. Wish we could apparate in this damn castle."

"You know why we can't help you there, Horace," Dumbledore said.

"Yes, yes, I know, security. Well, I'll leave you the music. Merry Christmas."

"And you," Dumbledore returned, and Slughorn grumbled about stairs on his way out of the room.

Dumbledore hummed with the music. He pulled his chair out and stood.

"Dance with an old man, Minerva?"

"Dance...?" she frowned.

He raised his eyebrows. "Yes, that was one of the words I mentioned."

She continued to frown. "Stop twinkling your eyes at me, Albus."

"Come now, Minerva. I can never convince you to try a lemon drop. Indulge me this once."

McGonagall put down her teacup. "Very well," she sighed, and stood. Dumbledore put his withered hand at her waist so that she wouldn't have to touch it.

He hummed to the music again.

"You're not old," McGonagall said quietly.

"What was that?"

"I said you're not old," she said in a matter-of-fact way.

He chuckled. "I'm so old I've stopped counting."

"Don't be absurd. You have another hundred years left in you."

"Oh God," he laughed, "I certainly hope not."

"Stop that. I don't know how the school could run without you."

"I don't know, Minerva..." he pondered. "I'm sure I can think of someone who could run it."

"Later," McGonagall said.

"I know, Minerva. I know."

She closed her eyes and put her head on his shoulder, which was not something she was commonly inclined to do.