Post by esoterica1693 on Sept 3, 2007 4:13:04 GMT -5
A/N: Pointless weird humor inspired by my end-of-summer closet sorting. Appropriate for anyone not offended by a lustful glance or two.
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Minerva looked across the Headmaster’s office and let her eyes linger on the figure of her husband as he worked at his desk. He was immersed in a special Ministry project, one so secret that he had cast several privacy wards, encrypting the parchments he pored over and disguising the magical instruments he was examining. Not even Minerva, ex-Auror with a Top Secret clearance of her own, was allowed to see the subject of his work. She had to chuckle at Albus’ sense of humor. His wards made it appear that he had mis-matched brightly-coloured socks and an assortment of coat-hangers from thier wardrobe scattered on his desk, all in a mess worthy of Arthur Weasley. She half-expected to see a box of plugs amidst the parchments.
Albus had cut back substantially on the work he did for the Ministry after the Boy Who Lived had sent the now-ephemeral Voldemort into hiding. Every time Minister Bagnold had approached him for assistance he had demurred, saying that in this interlude of peace the School deserved his undivided attention. But she had managed to convince him to make an exception for this particular project. It was one of the top priorities of the Department of Mysteries, and they had specifically requested Albus’ help. Bagnold had explained that his unmatched expertise in both alchemy and Transfiguration made him uniquely gifted to solve the problem they were wrestling with, and she had also intimated that some of his personal hobbies intersected with the matter. Apparently it all had to do with some sort of poorly-understood magic which routinely manifested in all-Muggle households. If Muggles ever recognized this magic for what it was, the secrecy of the magical world would be at risk. Bagnold had convinced Albus to sign on and the scope of the problem seemed sufficient that Minerva couldn't really object, even though neither Bagnold nor Albus could tell her anything about the specific subject of his project.
Minerva smiled. While she sometimes begrudged the time Albus had to devote to Ministry matters, she was also proud to be married, even if secretly, to such a talented wizard. Not every witch could say that her husband had a Chocolate Frog card of his very own and was a consultant for the Department of Mysteries, working on matters crucial to magical/Muggle relations. She would not want to stand in the way of him using his immense talents for good, even if it meant she saw much less of him than she would like. She would just have to make the time they did have together that much more meaningful. She intended that tonight would be one of those meaningful evenings.
Oblivious to his wife’s longing gaze, Albus made a few notes on one of his parchments which were covered with arithmantic calculations. He had solved the first part of the problem--he had figured out the complex transformation which occurred when socks were placed first in a laundry bin and then in a Muggle washing machine. Yes, he could see how one sock from each pair changed into a clothes hanger. What he couldn’t yet unravel was the actual mechanism which determined what kind of clothes hanger the sock turned into.
At first he had thought it had to do with the material and pattern of the sock. Perhaps thicker woolen socks turned into suit hangers while thin cotton socks turned into wire shirt hangers. But that hypothesis had not withstood numerical analysis. Instead it seemed that the controlling factor had nothing to do with the socks, but rather with the wardrobe or closet in which the newly-created hangers would appear. If the owner of the wardrobe had a surfeit of trousers, it seemed the socks transfigured into shirt hangers, but if the person had an abundance of shirts or blouses, the socks became suit and pants hangers. The poor Muggle ended up with not only drawers full of mismatched socks, but a closet full of useless hangers. Meanwhile their excess clothes lay scattered across chair backs and piled in heaps on the floor. It really was fairly complex magic—the socks had to somehow recognize the ratio of clothes to hangers and transform accordingly.
Ah, well, figuring out the first part of the problem was sufficient progress for the moment. As important as this project was, he would not allow it to intrude further on his time tonight. He had promised Minerva that he would be hers for the evening. Banishing his work with a wave of his hand, he walked towards her with a lustful smile of his own. Yes, the beautiful witch he was blessed to call his wife certainly did rock his socks, and he intended to make that very clear to her this evening.
The End
- - - - - -
Minerva looked across the Headmaster’s office and let her eyes linger on the figure of her husband as he worked at his desk. He was immersed in a special Ministry project, one so secret that he had cast several privacy wards, encrypting the parchments he pored over and disguising the magical instruments he was examining. Not even Minerva, ex-Auror with a Top Secret clearance of her own, was allowed to see the subject of his work. She had to chuckle at Albus’ sense of humor. His wards made it appear that he had mis-matched brightly-coloured socks and an assortment of coat-hangers from thier wardrobe scattered on his desk, all in a mess worthy of Arthur Weasley. She half-expected to see a box of plugs amidst the parchments.
Albus had cut back substantially on the work he did for the Ministry after the Boy Who Lived had sent the now-ephemeral Voldemort into hiding. Every time Minister Bagnold had approached him for assistance he had demurred, saying that in this interlude of peace the School deserved his undivided attention. But she had managed to convince him to make an exception for this particular project. It was one of the top priorities of the Department of Mysteries, and they had specifically requested Albus’ help. Bagnold had explained that his unmatched expertise in both alchemy and Transfiguration made him uniquely gifted to solve the problem they were wrestling with, and she had also intimated that some of his personal hobbies intersected with the matter. Apparently it all had to do with some sort of poorly-understood magic which routinely manifested in all-Muggle households. If Muggles ever recognized this magic for what it was, the secrecy of the magical world would be at risk. Bagnold had convinced Albus to sign on and the scope of the problem seemed sufficient that Minerva couldn't really object, even though neither Bagnold nor Albus could tell her anything about the specific subject of his project.
Minerva smiled. While she sometimes begrudged the time Albus had to devote to Ministry matters, she was also proud to be married, even if secretly, to such a talented wizard. Not every witch could say that her husband had a Chocolate Frog card of his very own and was a consultant for the Department of Mysteries, working on matters crucial to magical/Muggle relations. She would not want to stand in the way of him using his immense talents for good, even if it meant she saw much less of him than she would like. She would just have to make the time they did have together that much more meaningful. She intended that tonight would be one of those meaningful evenings.
Oblivious to his wife’s longing gaze, Albus made a few notes on one of his parchments which were covered with arithmantic calculations. He had solved the first part of the problem--he had figured out the complex transformation which occurred when socks were placed first in a laundry bin and then in a Muggle washing machine. Yes, he could see how one sock from each pair changed into a clothes hanger. What he couldn’t yet unravel was the actual mechanism which determined what kind of clothes hanger the sock turned into.
At first he had thought it had to do with the material and pattern of the sock. Perhaps thicker woolen socks turned into suit hangers while thin cotton socks turned into wire shirt hangers. But that hypothesis had not withstood numerical analysis. Instead it seemed that the controlling factor had nothing to do with the socks, but rather with the wardrobe or closet in which the newly-created hangers would appear. If the owner of the wardrobe had a surfeit of trousers, it seemed the socks transfigured into shirt hangers, but if the person had an abundance of shirts or blouses, the socks became suit and pants hangers. The poor Muggle ended up with not only drawers full of mismatched socks, but a closet full of useless hangers. Meanwhile their excess clothes lay scattered across chair backs and piled in heaps on the floor. It really was fairly complex magic—the socks had to somehow recognize the ratio of clothes to hangers and transform accordingly.
Ah, well, figuring out the first part of the problem was sufficient progress for the moment. As important as this project was, he would not allow it to intrude further on his time tonight. He had promised Minerva that he would be hers for the evening. Banishing his work with a wave of his hand, he walked towards her with a lustful smile of his own. Yes, the beautiful witch he was blessed to call his wife certainly did rock his socks, and he intended to make that very clear to her this evening.
The End
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