Post by palanfanaiel on Jun 1, 2005 10:13:36 GMT -5
Title: The Mystery of the Missing Shirt
Rating: 14+
By Palanfanaiel
Having been so engrossed in writing a reply to the Minister of Magic, taking his feathery pen and dipping it in bottle green ink, writing down words accurately and readable, Albus Dumbledore hadn’t heard the little squeak-ish house-elf, before Quink, the new house-elf, resorted to poking a finger at his arm. Naturally, Albus jumped, and spilled liquid ink on his new-washed ropes, it soaked through, and he felt his shirt clamming to his chest. He sighed.
“Uhh, Quink so sorry, Sir,” wailed the house-elf miserable.
“No need to worry, Quink! I’ll just…” but before he had a chance to flick his wand and vanish the ink, Quink had started to smash his round face into Albus’s desk, his large dark eyes rolling madly in his face.
“Quink bad bad bad house-elf! Quink bad,” Albus quickly took the small elfs hands, before Quink had a chance to smack himself with a large club Hagrid had found in the forbidden forest – didn’t I put that away – and Albus tried to calm the little creature.
“It’s alright, Quink! You know what, why don’t you clean my ropes for me, and then I’ll just put on a new set? That’s why you’re here, right, with my fresh laundry basket?”
“Yes, sir, see sir, Quink has your laundry,” and he pointed to a large wooden basket, filled with clean clothes.
“Thank you Quink”
After ten minutes the elf has disappeared with the stained ropes and shirt, and Albus stood half naked in his office. Blushing when he heard a knock on the door, he quickly took the basket in his arms, and called out to whoever needed him “Busy! I’ll be back in a moment,” he didn’t bother to hear the response and swiftly darted into a hidden doorway, flying up speeding stairs, and only began to breathe again when he stood in his private chambers. What a mess! He was sure, even how eccentric he was rumoured to be, people would not expect him half-nude in his office. He grinned as he thought of what people actually would think; he knew Severus would come with some offhand remark, but that was Severus, always the sarcastic.
Settling the basket on his flowery couch, he worked his way through bunches of colourful clothes. A couple of violet ropes went over to the not-to-wear corner of the couch, together with an orange cloak. Finally, he found his favourite ropes, Abe had given him them a couple of years back, they were blue and yellow striped. Now all he needed was a shirt. A green sleeve caught his eyes - what was that? He pulled it out of the other clothes, and found himself starring at a bright-green shirt with pink suns on it.
For a second he wondered who’s it were, it might have looked like his taste, but…
“Where have you been,” he asked remembering his lost shirt. It had been missing for – what, a couple of months – and he had forgotten all about it. He grinned; he wouldn’t be surprised, if it was one of the house-elves doing. They could be somewhat confused at times.
Donning another shirt – even more vivid in colour – he threw the ‘found’ shirt in a pile on top of the rest of his clean clothes, put on the striped ropes and headed downstairs, wowing to find the truth behind the sudden appearance of that shirt.
He had entirely forgotten the knock on the door, and was surprised for the second time that morning – not that the intruder noticed, she had her back to him, starring at the grounds from a tall arched window.
“Minerva?”
“Oh, there you are, Albus,” she had turned around, Albus felt a little pride in her shocked eyes, it was not everyday you could sneak up on the deputy headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, “so, not busy anymore?”
“Certainly not, I just had to fix a little house-elf mishap,” he saw the wheels turning in her head at the moment the last words left his mouth, of course she would be curious as cat.
“Mishap?”
“Quink brought my laundry up, and I sort of spilled ink all over, had to change…” he gave her an ear from ear grin, she seemed not notice, but the corner of her mouth quivered slightly. Even the mighty McGonagall found his smiles contagious.
“That reminds me, here,” she handed him tree socks, all in different colours and design; he was just about to give a smart quip, when he noticed they were his own.
“New house-elves, huh,” his tone indicated the humour of his statement, yet he couldn’t suppress a little sigh from ending the statement, either.
“Albus, this is the third time this weak, I’ve ended up with clothing not mine, and last week was even worse. Apparently the elves have the notion I wear kinky socks, but they cross the line with underwear!”
“Underwear?”
“I’ve just delivered… ” she paused and shook her head ruefully, “Snape back his underwear,” a look of pure terror crossed her eyes for a second, before serenity took over.
“Most interesting, I’ll have a talk with Dobby”
“And it’s not just me, Flitwick’s been visiting me daily, bringing along clothing of mine, he told me, everyone is having a problem with misplaced garments,” she gave him an annoyed stare.
“Well, I haven’t had the pleasure of returning underwear yet,” he shuffled the thought of Minerva’s more private clothing to the farthest corner of his mind, “but today I found a missing shirt, as a matter of fact I did not know it had been missing for a couple of months now, I’ve been wondering why it just appears now. I’ll bet you, one of the elves probably hid it somewhere, unknowingly of course, until this day where another one found it,” she appeared just as puzzled as him.
“What kind of shirt was it,” he was just about to ask what kind of question that was, she practically hated every scrap of clothing he owned, and never missed an opportunity to state so. He could barely count the times where his colourblinded-ness had come up daily on his hands and feet…
“Well, it is green, the kind of really bright green, that you absolute despise, and has pinky suns all over it, rather horrible don’t you think,” he turned his sarcastic voice into a boyish grin – why were she looking at the air just a pace over his eyes.
“Probably just an elf who thought to help guide you into to wearing more – casual – clothes,” she replied dryly, “changing the subject Headmaster, you’re needed in the dungeons. Severus is about to throw another of his notorious tantrums, apparently his Hufflepuff-Ravenclaw thirdyear class didn’t go as planned yesterday, and he refuses to teach ever again. I barely got the chance to give him his ‘underwear’ before I nearly got some silvery substance smashed in my face,” she pronounced underwear a little strained.
He gave her an air-kiss and hurried out of his office, even though he heard her little murmured ‘insufferable’.
*
He woke the next morning, his mood exceptionally good, and planned that today he would give himself a relax-day. It was after all Sunday. Dragging his sleepy body into the living-room, lightning up the fireplace with a small blaze of a hot-red flame shooting from his wand he settled into his comfy couch, pushing away his clean clothes from yesterday. On second thought… He had meant to grab the returned shirt, and tug it on, and send the rest flying toward his sleeping chamber, unfortunately the once-missing shirt was missing, again.
“Curious,” he had developed the rather regrettable habbit of talking to himself, and for a second clamped his jaws tight. Putting on a morning rope, he set out to solve this mystery. In his office he found another washing basket with his clothes from yesterday, and something else. Not again, he thought, and picked the small thing up. A silver eyebrow rose to meet his hairline, and he smiled cheekily –if this is what you get from wishing…
Strolling along the corridors, unaware of the stares he received from various students and teachers, he walked the whole way to Minerva McGonagall’s chambers with his hands carrying the black clothing, he knew she was up, most likely she had been awake some time. Dashing into her office, he tapped the monstrous lion on his nose, in a small abstract painting hanging next to her bookcase. A hidden door revealed itself, and he took the few steps in a sprint, and knocked on a stilted door.
No one answered. He knocked again, and gave her a whole five minutes before he gave the door a ’daughter of Zeus’ and went in.
Minerva was no where in sight – quite logical since she hadn’t heard his knocking – and he went to her living room, and sat down on her plain, yet comfortable, couch. He leaned back, and put his feet up on the little sofa table, he always felt at home here.
A humming sound caught his attention, and he looked up as Minerva entered the room, smiling broadly and humming until she saw him. She gave a little gasp, her hand going to her heart, and halted, starring at him baffled.
He was no better, stifling a loud intake of breath; he stood wide-eyed and pointed an accusing finger at her.
“You’ve stolen my shirt!” he deadpanned. But right he was, for Minerva stood in nothing but his bright green shirt with the pink suns, unbuttoned from her neck and down to her bosom, revealing the inner slopes of her breast – he nearly choked on air – and the shirt stopped just short of her thighs, leaving him goggling.
“ALBUS,” she shrieked and for a short moment reminded him of a squeaking house-elf, darting around the room in blurs, and when she stopped she had armoured herself in blankets and rugs from top till toe.
“Have you never learned to knock?” she had collected her calm composed-self and pretended she had not been sprinting around just a second before, even her breath was even.
“Why are you wearing my shirt?”
She intentionally ignored his questions, and shifted her position, so she stood with her arms folded under her breast, still so she was covered fully. The only skin he could see was her face, and a few toes sticking out from under a blanket.
He gave her a pointed look - his disappointed headmaster look – she actually moved her uncomfortable gaze to her fireplace.
“I borrowed it, just after you were forced to leave, by Umbridge and The Minister,” she said matter-of-factly, still trying to avoid his eyes. He had a great struggle with smothering his bubbles of laughter.
“Why did you feel you had to borrow my shirt?”
“I missed you,” she said it so softly he had to strain to hear, and leaned forward catching her hands, and stopped them from fiddling.
Giving her a wet kiss on her tiny pointed nose, he felt her arms sliding around his middle, and he embraced her too. Still wearing a joyful facial expression, he couldn’t restrain from somewhat ruining the tender atmosphere:
“So, I guess, that means I can borrow this?” When her eyes saw his left hand holding one of her bra’s she burst out laughing.
“What! Do you wanna wear that?”
He did not answer her, but leaned forward, their lips and tongues tangled only briefly before he broke the kiss,
“How do you feel about sharing my shirt,” she squealed and ran into her bedroom with Albus Dumbledore following, having a most impish smirk written over his whole face.
The End
Rating: 14+
By Palanfanaiel
Having been so engrossed in writing a reply to the Minister of Magic, taking his feathery pen and dipping it in bottle green ink, writing down words accurately and readable, Albus Dumbledore hadn’t heard the little squeak-ish house-elf, before Quink, the new house-elf, resorted to poking a finger at his arm. Naturally, Albus jumped, and spilled liquid ink on his new-washed ropes, it soaked through, and he felt his shirt clamming to his chest. He sighed.
“Uhh, Quink so sorry, Sir,” wailed the house-elf miserable.
“No need to worry, Quink! I’ll just…” but before he had a chance to flick his wand and vanish the ink, Quink had started to smash his round face into Albus’s desk, his large dark eyes rolling madly in his face.
“Quink bad bad bad house-elf! Quink bad,” Albus quickly took the small elfs hands, before Quink had a chance to smack himself with a large club Hagrid had found in the forbidden forest – didn’t I put that away – and Albus tried to calm the little creature.
“It’s alright, Quink! You know what, why don’t you clean my ropes for me, and then I’ll just put on a new set? That’s why you’re here, right, with my fresh laundry basket?”
“Yes, sir, see sir, Quink has your laundry,” and he pointed to a large wooden basket, filled with clean clothes.
“Thank you Quink”
After ten minutes the elf has disappeared with the stained ropes and shirt, and Albus stood half naked in his office. Blushing when he heard a knock on the door, he quickly took the basket in his arms, and called out to whoever needed him “Busy! I’ll be back in a moment,” he didn’t bother to hear the response and swiftly darted into a hidden doorway, flying up speeding stairs, and only began to breathe again when he stood in his private chambers. What a mess! He was sure, even how eccentric he was rumoured to be, people would not expect him half-nude in his office. He grinned as he thought of what people actually would think; he knew Severus would come with some offhand remark, but that was Severus, always the sarcastic.
Settling the basket on his flowery couch, he worked his way through bunches of colourful clothes. A couple of violet ropes went over to the not-to-wear corner of the couch, together with an orange cloak. Finally, he found his favourite ropes, Abe had given him them a couple of years back, they were blue and yellow striped. Now all he needed was a shirt. A green sleeve caught his eyes - what was that? He pulled it out of the other clothes, and found himself starring at a bright-green shirt with pink suns on it.
For a second he wondered who’s it were, it might have looked like his taste, but…
“Where have you been,” he asked remembering his lost shirt. It had been missing for – what, a couple of months – and he had forgotten all about it. He grinned; he wouldn’t be surprised, if it was one of the house-elves doing. They could be somewhat confused at times.
Donning another shirt – even more vivid in colour – he threw the ‘found’ shirt in a pile on top of the rest of his clean clothes, put on the striped ropes and headed downstairs, wowing to find the truth behind the sudden appearance of that shirt.
He had entirely forgotten the knock on the door, and was surprised for the second time that morning – not that the intruder noticed, she had her back to him, starring at the grounds from a tall arched window.
“Minerva?”
“Oh, there you are, Albus,” she had turned around, Albus felt a little pride in her shocked eyes, it was not everyday you could sneak up on the deputy headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, “so, not busy anymore?”
“Certainly not, I just had to fix a little house-elf mishap,” he saw the wheels turning in her head at the moment the last words left his mouth, of course she would be curious as cat.
“Mishap?”
“Quink brought my laundry up, and I sort of spilled ink all over, had to change…” he gave her an ear from ear grin, she seemed not notice, but the corner of her mouth quivered slightly. Even the mighty McGonagall found his smiles contagious.
“That reminds me, here,” she handed him tree socks, all in different colours and design; he was just about to give a smart quip, when he noticed they were his own.
“New house-elves, huh,” his tone indicated the humour of his statement, yet he couldn’t suppress a little sigh from ending the statement, either.
“Albus, this is the third time this weak, I’ve ended up with clothing not mine, and last week was even worse. Apparently the elves have the notion I wear kinky socks, but they cross the line with underwear!”
“Underwear?”
“I’ve just delivered… ” she paused and shook her head ruefully, “Snape back his underwear,” a look of pure terror crossed her eyes for a second, before serenity took over.
“Most interesting, I’ll have a talk with Dobby”
“And it’s not just me, Flitwick’s been visiting me daily, bringing along clothing of mine, he told me, everyone is having a problem with misplaced garments,” she gave him an annoyed stare.
“Well, I haven’t had the pleasure of returning underwear yet,” he shuffled the thought of Minerva’s more private clothing to the farthest corner of his mind, “but today I found a missing shirt, as a matter of fact I did not know it had been missing for a couple of months now, I’ve been wondering why it just appears now. I’ll bet you, one of the elves probably hid it somewhere, unknowingly of course, until this day where another one found it,” she appeared just as puzzled as him.
“What kind of shirt was it,” he was just about to ask what kind of question that was, she practically hated every scrap of clothing he owned, and never missed an opportunity to state so. He could barely count the times where his colourblinded-ness had come up daily on his hands and feet…
“Well, it is green, the kind of really bright green, that you absolute despise, and has pinky suns all over it, rather horrible don’t you think,” he turned his sarcastic voice into a boyish grin – why were she looking at the air just a pace over his eyes.
“Probably just an elf who thought to help guide you into to wearing more – casual – clothes,” she replied dryly, “changing the subject Headmaster, you’re needed in the dungeons. Severus is about to throw another of his notorious tantrums, apparently his Hufflepuff-Ravenclaw thirdyear class didn’t go as planned yesterday, and he refuses to teach ever again. I barely got the chance to give him his ‘underwear’ before I nearly got some silvery substance smashed in my face,” she pronounced underwear a little strained.
He gave her an air-kiss and hurried out of his office, even though he heard her little murmured ‘insufferable’.
*
He woke the next morning, his mood exceptionally good, and planned that today he would give himself a relax-day. It was after all Sunday. Dragging his sleepy body into the living-room, lightning up the fireplace with a small blaze of a hot-red flame shooting from his wand he settled into his comfy couch, pushing away his clean clothes from yesterday. On second thought… He had meant to grab the returned shirt, and tug it on, and send the rest flying toward his sleeping chamber, unfortunately the once-missing shirt was missing, again.
“Curious,” he had developed the rather regrettable habbit of talking to himself, and for a second clamped his jaws tight. Putting on a morning rope, he set out to solve this mystery. In his office he found another washing basket with his clothes from yesterday, and something else. Not again, he thought, and picked the small thing up. A silver eyebrow rose to meet his hairline, and he smiled cheekily –if this is what you get from wishing…
Strolling along the corridors, unaware of the stares he received from various students and teachers, he walked the whole way to Minerva McGonagall’s chambers with his hands carrying the black clothing, he knew she was up, most likely she had been awake some time. Dashing into her office, he tapped the monstrous lion on his nose, in a small abstract painting hanging next to her bookcase. A hidden door revealed itself, and he took the few steps in a sprint, and knocked on a stilted door.
No one answered. He knocked again, and gave her a whole five minutes before he gave the door a ’daughter of Zeus’ and went in.
Minerva was no where in sight – quite logical since she hadn’t heard his knocking – and he went to her living room, and sat down on her plain, yet comfortable, couch. He leaned back, and put his feet up on the little sofa table, he always felt at home here.
A humming sound caught his attention, and he looked up as Minerva entered the room, smiling broadly and humming until she saw him. She gave a little gasp, her hand going to her heart, and halted, starring at him baffled.
He was no better, stifling a loud intake of breath; he stood wide-eyed and pointed an accusing finger at her.
“You’ve stolen my shirt!” he deadpanned. But right he was, for Minerva stood in nothing but his bright green shirt with the pink suns, unbuttoned from her neck and down to her bosom, revealing the inner slopes of her breast – he nearly choked on air – and the shirt stopped just short of her thighs, leaving him goggling.
“ALBUS,” she shrieked and for a short moment reminded him of a squeaking house-elf, darting around the room in blurs, and when she stopped she had armoured herself in blankets and rugs from top till toe.
“Have you never learned to knock?” she had collected her calm composed-self and pretended she had not been sprinting around just a second before, even her breath was even.
“Why are you wearing my shirt?”
She intentionally ignored his questions, and shifted her position, so she stood with her arms folded under her breast, still so she was covered fully. The only skin he could see was her face, and a few toes sticking out from under a blanket.
He gave her a pointed look - his disappointed headmaster look – she actually moved her uncomfortable gaze to her fireplace.
“I borrowed it, just after you were forced to leave, by Umbridge and The Minister,” she said matter-of-factly, still trying to avoid his eyes. He had a great struggle with smothering his bubbles of laughter.
“Why did you feel you had to borrow my shirt?”
“I missed you,” she said it so softly he had to strain to hear, and leaned forward catching her hands, and stopped them from fiddling.
Giving her a wet kiss on her tiny pointed nose, he felt her arms sliding around his middle, and he embraced her too. Still wearing a joyful facial expression, he couldn’t restrain from somewhat ruining the tender atmosphere:
“So, I guess, that means I can borrow this?” When her eyes saw his left hand holding one of her bra’s she burst out laughing.
“What! Do you wanna wear that?”
He did not answer her, but leaned forward, their lips and tongues tangled only briefly before he broke the kiss,
“How do you feel about sharing my shirt,” she squealed and ran into her bedroom with Albus Dumbledore following, having a most impish smirk written over his whole face.
The End
)!
I do love this original way of writing you use hope to see more soon 
