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Title: Understaffed
Author: Evandar
Fandom: Harry Potter
Rating: G
Genre: Gen
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and am making no profit from this story.
Summary: The life of a Hogwarts teacher isn't an easy one.
Author's Notes: This was written for the prompt 'Women Being Awesome' on my GenPrompt Bingo table and is inspired by a conversation with![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
silberstreif.
Minerva takes a deep breath, steels herself, and turns the little hourglass three times for the third time that day. In her office, she’s finishing off paperwork for the exam board; she’s on the fifth floor, teaching Transfiguration to third year Ravenclaw and Slytherin, and she’s on the second floor teaching her seventh year NEWT class.
She’s getting too old for this, she thinks, as she slips the Time Turner back into her robes. Too old to keep track of all the Professor McGonagalls running around – all of them sleep-deprived and over-caffeinated – and she can feel retirement creeping up on her. Age is sinking into her bones, faster than it should, given the extra hours she’s been living.
She meets Pomona on the staircase. It helpfully moves them in the opposite direction to the staffroom mid-climb, so they take a longer route.
“How many times today?” Pomona asks.
Minerva holds up three fingers and thinks longingly of the Old Ogdens in her bedside cabinet. All being well, there’ll be a snifter or two coming her way this evening.
Pomona winces. “Only once myself,” she says. “I don’t know how you do it.”
“Practise,” Minerva says. “Hard alcohol, and strong coffee.” She flashes Pomona her most wry smile – the one that had once made Tom Riddle laugh, during a Runes assignment too many years ago – and wins a chuckle for her efforts.
“Of course, there’s always the odd student who makes it all worthwhile,” she continues. “How is Mr Longbottom?”
“Thriving,” Pomona replies. “Simply thriving. He’ll be my replacement if I’m lucky.”
Minerva envies her that. Oh, she’s had the occasional hope, but nothing substantial. Nothing to have her hang up her witch’s hat, certainly. “Lucky you,” she murmurs, and steps onto a new staircase as it begins to move – taking them in the correct direction this time. She would love to know what the Founders had been thinking with that one. If she can feel retirement creeping up on her, the feeling that she’ll be doing this to the end of her days – though hopefully not beyond – has sunk so deep into her bones that it’s become a part of her.
The Time Turner is a routine. The exhaustion is a way of life. The mantra “I love my job, I love my job” is carved into her heart.
She smiles at Pomona when they reach the door to the staff room. “Shall we?”
Author: Evandar
Fandom: Harry Potter
Rating: G
Genre: Gen
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and am making no profit from this story.
Summary: The life of a Hogwarts teacher isn't an easy one.
Author's Notes: This was written for the prompt 'Women Being Awesome' on my GenPrompt Bingo table and is inspired by a conversation with
silberstreif.Minerva takes a deep breath, steels herself, and turns the little hourglass three times for the third time that day. In her office, she’s finishing off paperwork for the exam board; she’s on the fifth floor, teaching Transfiguration to third year Ravenclaw and Slytherin, and she’s on the second floor teaching her seventh year NEWT class.
She’s getting too old for this, she thinks, as she slips the Time Turner back into her robes. Too old to keep track of all the Professor McGonagalls running around – all of them sleep-deprived and over-caffeinated – and she can feel retirement creeping up on her. Age is sinking into her bones, faster than it should, given the extra hours she’s been living.
She meets Pomona on the staircase. It helpfully moves them in the opposite direction to the staffroom mid-climb, so they take a longer route.
“How many times today?” Pomona asks.
Minerva holds up three fingers and thinks longingly of the Old Ogdens in her bedside cabinet. All being well, there’ll be a snifter or two coming her way this evening.
Pomona winces. “Only once myself,” she says. “I don’t know how you do it.”
“Practise,” Minerva says. “Hard alcohol, and strong coffee.” She flashes Pomona her most wry smile – the one that had once made Tom Riddle laugh, during a Runes assignment too many years ago – and wins a chuckle for her efforts.
“Of course, there’s always the odd student who makes it all worthwhile,” she continues. “How is Mr Longbottom?”
“Thriving,” Pomona replies. “Simply thriving. He’ll be my replacement if I’m lucky.”
Minerva envies her that. Oh, she’s had the occasional hope, but nothing substantial. Nothing to have her hang up her witch’s hat, certainly. “Lucky you,” she murmurs, and steps onto a new staircase as it begins to move – taking them in the correct direction this time. She would love to know what the Founders had been thinking with that one. If she can feel retirement creeping up on her, the feeling that she’ll be doing this to the end of her days – though hopefully not beyond – has sunk so deep into her bones that it’s become a part of her.
The Time Turner is a routine. The exhaustion is a way of life. The mantra “I love my job, I love my job” is carved into her heart.
She smiles at Pomona when they reach the door to the staff room. “Shall we?”
