Post by Catwoman99 on Jul 27, 2004 21:07:29 GMT -5
I know it is not a WIP, but it's a short one-shot and this category was empty so I thought, what the hell, I'll put it up.
Tug of War
Albus Dumbledore watched as the Great Hall quickly filled with hungry students. They seemed more energetic this morning, most likely due to the day’s Quidditch game. The headmaster voraciously attacked his breakfast, eating through two sausages before he noticed that the seat next to him was vacant. Wiping his mouth, he looked around the staff table. Everyone was accounted for except Minerva. When he woke up this morning, she had already dressed and gone. His deputy headmistress, and spouse, had mentioned the night before that she needed to grade some papers before the game, so he thought nothing of it. He was concerned about her skipping breakfast. It was the most important meal of the day in his opinion.
Albus took another bite of sausage, when the doors to the Great Hall flew open with a thunderous boom. The object of his thoughts stood in the threshold, her eyes focused intently upon him. A vein throbbed in her forehead and she was breathing heavily. Minerva walked determinedly down the center of the Hall, her eyes never leaving her husband. Students and teachers alike watched in stunned silence. Minerva paid no heed to the other occupants in the hall. If looks could kill, the headmaster would be nothing more than a smoldering pile of ashes with a purple hat on top.
“ALBUS PERCIVAL WULFRIC BRIAN DUMBLEDORE!” She screeched, causing some Hufflepuff first years seated nearest her to tremble in fear. Minerva reached across the table and her hand latched firmly onto his beard, which conveniently for her, was tied together. She pulled on it, forcing Albus to stand up.
“Professor McGonagall?” He said with caution.
The fire in her eyes intensified. “Don’t Professor McGonagall me! Come with me this instance!” Leading him by the beard she took him to the side teacher’s entrance into the hall. She never let go of his beard and the other professors ducked as they passed to keep from getting knocked in the head. As soon as the door shut, the staff looked at each other questioningly, no one really knowing what to say. Some of the professors had a hard time keeping a straight face. The students were murmuring amongst themselves, but the voice of Ron Weasley rang out above the din.
“Poor bloke, he’ll be sleeping on the couch for sure.”
* * *
“Minerva, what is the matter?” Albus asked, through gritted teeth. It was really difficult to speak when your beard was being used as a leash.
“Humpf, as if you don’t know!” She said nothing more, save the occasional curse under her breath. Minerva shouted the password to their chambers, when they reached the portrait of Godric Gryffindor, who, upon seeing the trouble Albus was in, opened and hastily retreated to another painting.
Still yanking with all her might on his poor beard, she led him across the living room, pass the fireplace and into their parlour.
“How in Merlin’s name can you explain this mess?!” she bellowed.
Albus looked sheepishly around the room. It was a disaster. The cushions from the sofa had been pulled to the floor, torn and the stuffing pulled out. A small bookcase had toppled over, sending its contents flying. The wall tapestries were ripped to shreds and now sat in a heap on the ground next to various broken vases, the plants and flowers they once held gone. In the midst of this chaos stood three, rather mangy, goats.
“What are goats doing in our parlour? In my favorite parlour? The one I spent years decorating and getting just right!”
Albus laughed nervously. “Didn’t I tell you?”
“Tell me what?” she said, frustrated.
“I must have forgot. Aberforth asked us to baby-sit…er…goat-sit.”
Minerva threw her hands up. “Why are they in here and not in the stables!?”
“They don’t do well with the thestrals. Besides they’re not used to sleeping in a stable. They usually stay in Aberforth’s room.” He reached out to scratch their heads. “The little guys miss him, don’t you fellas?”
His wife shook her finger menacingly at him and cried, “Well, then I’m sure won’t object to sleeping in here with them yourself!” She turned around and made for the door. “You had better clean this mess up, too!”
“Yes, dear,” he muttered as she shut the door with a bang. The three goats looked up at him with innocent eyes. “When you’re married, then you’ll understand.”
All three bleated in agreement.
Tug of War
Albus Dumbledore watched as the Great Hall quickly filled with hungry students. They seemed more energetic this morning, most likely due to the day’s Quidditch game. The headmaster voraciously attacked his breakfast, eating through two sausages before he noticed that the seat next to him was vacant. Wiping his mouth, he looked around the staff table. Everyone was accounted for except Minerva. When he woke up this morning, she had already dressed and gone. His deputy headmistress, and spouse, had mentioned the night before that she needed to grade some papers before the game, so he thought nothing of it. He was concerned about her skipping breakfast. It was the most important meal of the day in his opinion.
Albus took another bite of sausage, when the doors to the Great Hall flew open with a thunderous boom. The object of his thoughts stood in the threshold, her eyes focused intently upon him. A vein throbbed in her forehead and she was breathing heavily. Minerva walked determinedly down the center of the Hall, her eyes never leaving her husband. Students and teachers alike watched in stunned silence. Minerva paid no heed to the other occupants in the hall. If looks could kill, the headmaster would be nothing more than a smoldering pile of ashes with a purple hat on top.
“ALBUS PERCIVAL WULFRIC BRIAN DUMBLEDORE!” She screeched, causing some Hufflepuff first years seated nearest her to tremble in fear. Minerva reached across the table and her hand latched firmly onto his beard, which conveniently for her, was tied together. She pulled on it, forcing Albus to stand up.
“Professor McGonagall?” He said with caution.
The fire in her eyes intensified. “Don’t Professor McGonagall me! Come with me this instance!” Leading him by the beard she took him to the side teacher’s entrance into the hall. She never let go of his beard and the other professors ducked as they passed to keep from getting knocked in the head. As soon as the door shut, the staff looked at each other questioningly, no one really knowing what to say. Some of the professors had a hard time keeping a straight face. The students were murmuring amongst themselves, but the voice of Ron Weasley rang out above the din.
“Poor bloke, he’ll be sleeping on the couch for sure.”
* * *
“Minerva, what is the matter?” Albus asked, through gritted teeth. It was really difficult to speak when your beard was being used as a leash.
“Humpf, as if you don’t know!” She said nothing more, save the occasional curse under her breath. Minerva shouted the password to their chambers, when they reached the portrait of Godric Gryffindor, who, upon seeing the trouble Albus was in, opened and hastily retreated to another painting.
Still yanking with all her might on his poor beard, she led him across the living room, pass the fireplace and into their parlour.
“How in Merlin’s name can you explain this mess?!” she bellowed.
Albus looked sheepishly around the room. It was a disaster. The cushions from the sofa had been pulled to the floor, torn and the stuffing pulled out. A small bookcase had toppled over, sending its contents flying. The wall tapestries were ripped to shreds and now sat in a heap on the ground next to various broken vases, the plants and flowers they once held gone. In the midst of this chaos stood three, rather mangy, goats.
“What are goats doing in our parlour? In my favorite parlour? The one I spent years decorating and getting just right!”
Albus laughed nervously. “Didn’t I tell you?”
“Tell me what?” she said, frustrated.
“I must have forgot. Aberforth asked us to baby-sit…er…goat-sit.”
Minerva threw her hands up. “Why are they in here and not in the stables!?”
“They don’t do well with the thestrals. Besides they’re not used to sleeping in a stable. They usually stay in Aberforth’s room.” He reached out to scratch their heads. “The little guys miss him, don’t you fellas?”
His wife shook her finger menacingly at him and cried, “Well, then I’m sure won’t object to sleeping in here with them yourself!” She turned around and made for the door. “You had better clean this mess up, too!”
“Yes, dear,” he muttered as she shut the door with a bang. The three goats looked up at him with innocent eyes. “When you’re married, then you’ll understand.”
All three bleated in agreement.
x
