Albus Dumbledore + Minevra McGonagall imagines
I really enjoy your blog!
Could I please request some Albus Dumbledore/reader imagines and some Minerva/reader imagines please?
Hope you have a really good day/evening 😊
"You're thinking of becoming what?" You asked, slightly scoffing.
Albus Dumbledore turned to you, a thick cigar dangling between his lips. His blue eyes were tired, glassy. Yet, so bright. Even in the darkest of corners where shadows constantly lurked, he brightened the room.
"Becoming Headmaster. It's a better deal than becoming Minister. I couldn't imagine that," He chuckled, puffing out a large cloud of smoke.
You sighed, walking over to him and sitting on his lap. You wrapped your arms around his neck, bumping your nose with his. Even though you despised his smoking addiction, he looked quite good with his cigar between his fingers.
"If that means the pay is better than being a Transfiguration professor . . ." You teased, a squeal escaping your mouth as Albus began to poke your sides.
"He was a good man!" Albus shouted, gasps of students crowding around.
You watched in horror as Albus threw himself onto one of his peers, Gryffindor ties and robes rustling on the floor of the Hogwarts halls.
"Don't ever talk about my father like that! You don't know him, you don't know about his life!" Albus shouted, growls and grunts escaping his throat.
Albus and his opponent wrestled with each other, students watching in amazement as they fought. Your eyes were glued to the scene before you, your heart in the pit of your stomach. You hated this, you despised it and yet, a part of you felt like if you tried to break their fight up, Albus would end up hating you.
Talk and whispers of Albus's personal life was growing worse as he got older and he couldn't take the pain anymore. It was like Albus was waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike. And he finally got his say.
"A concussion, a couple of broken ribs. . . . and the win going to the Slytherins" a nurse tutted as she bandaged Minevra's body.
You stared at your girlfriend, heart wildly racing at the thought of her never being able to play Quidditch again. She was exceptionally talented. She had many natural gifts but playing for her House was one of her better ones. She knew how to manipulate the game perfectly. She was a great broom rider.
"I'll be fine, for the love of Merlin, you need to stop worrying!" Minerva said. Her hair was stacked with leaves and branches and dirt scrapped her nose. Her voice was raspy from screaming and hid a twinge of pain.
You shook your head, reaching out and lightly touching her thigh.
"You need to stop being such a damn over-achiever," You half-heartedly joked.
Minerva only smiled at you, wincing when the nurse touched a forming bruise on her ribcage.
"And what if I'm not!?" Minerva screamed, tears staining her cheeks.
Your breath faltered, your mind racing. Out of your seven years of knowing Minerva, not once have you seen her break down before. Not like this.
Her hair was pulled back into a tight bun, her face splotchy, and red. Her sadness was like a physical representation of heartbreak. You couldn't bear to look at her without your heart shattering as well.
"You will, darling," You whispered, taking a step closer to her.
"You're the brightest witch of our age. There's no doubt that you'll be successful; you already are. You're going to move mountains and change lives, my love. You already have."
You took another step closer to her, a hand reaching out for comfort. After a few silent seconds, she finally complied and gave in. She sank into your arms, burying her head in your chest.
You hugged her tightly, letting her know that you'll always be there for her.
