I am screwed up in my hede. I know this. I give you the best ship EVAH.
Professor McGonagall was finally going to sample the fruits of her labours. And her fruit was a juicy, ripe little peach by the name of Neville Longbottom. Ever since Dumbledore revealed the prophecy regarding "the boy who would live" and that there were two boys born at the end of the seventh month, she had help shield Neville from any and all publicity. She had watched over him especially, and as he grew into a man, she knew he was worth the wait.
She had such a hard time concentrating during Transfigurations with his silly, coy fumblings and pretending to forget things all the time. Minerva knew a flirt when she saw one. They had arranged a private dinner in her office. If she had her way, she would finally become a real woman at 63. It didn't hurt that Neville had a grandma fixation.
Neville snuck in, and as the door shut, he dropped his bumbling, nervous fascade and sauntered over to his lady love. "Minnie, those tartan dress robes bring out the beautiful webbing of veins in your neck." He reached up with a finger and lazily flapped her neck's waddle. Minerva blushed to her roots.
He looked at the table and what they would be eating: mashed potatoes, chicken stew, and high fiber bran muffins. His special gal may have horsey teeth, but those teeth were old and soft.
Oh god, I can't finish this. I have tears squirting out of my eyes. I actually saw a RW/HG fic today and they had a "romantic meal" of mashed potatoes and stew. WTF???
This is HOTTTXXXX!!!11!!