Post by Isabelle on Jun 26, 2007 11:09:49 GMT -5
A/N: So it’s been a while since I’ve done any writing, so I hope this satisfies the requirements!
“Just Another Day”
The ear-splitting screams of Mrs. Black reverberated through halls of the house of Black. It seemed, over the last few weeks, that that had become the norm. Number twelve Grimmauld Place had become the new designated headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix since Sirius had offered it up. The last few weeks had been devoted to ridding the old house of vermin and other infestations to make it inhabitable once again.
At the center of the extermination and disinfection processes was none other than the matriarchal, benevolent and often short-tempered Molly Weasley. Everyone who had set foot in the house did not escape through her fingers. She had thrust a handcloth, broom, bucket and mop, or other household cleaning products at anyone and everyone who came into the house. With strict orders not to come back to her until she called for dinner or supper or for her personal inspection, she set them to work on various parts of the house.
So it was on an unusually bright and sunny morning that Albus Dumbledore found himself being steered toward the receiving parlor of Grimmauld Place with a scrub brush and bottle of Witherton’s Best Window Cleaner as well as a bottle of vinegar for extra shine in hand.
“But, Molly,” he attempted to protest, “I only dropped by for a few minutes to inform Professor McGonagall that the proposal for the small increase in the school’s budget was granted as well as give her the paperwork she asked for. And I’m not exactly dressed for a day of cleaning” He stopped just short of the parlor door looking at the fiery haired woman with a temper to match before him.
Molly put a hand on his shoulder. “Nonsense, Professor Dumbledore,” she said waving away his excuses as she transfigured his lime green robes into a sensible pair of trousers and tweed shirt, “everyone needs to do their part to make this place up a bit, including you.” She smiled sweetly at him as she pushed him into the parlor, closing the door behind her.
Dumbledore stood gaping at the door, awkwardly holding the brush and cleaner in his hand as he looked over the clothes Molly transfigured for him. Dumbledore didn’t usually do the cleaning in his rooms. The house elves normally took care of that for him. As for summers at his cottage, well, he didn’t usually do the cleaning there either other than the occasional bit of laundry or washing dishes every now and then. Of course, he was relegated to do most of the outdoor work as well other than the gardens. He could handle that. He didn’t dare work in the gardens for fear of mistaking a rare flower for a weed.
Windows were another thing altogether. He dreaded cleaning windows. Taking down screens, scrubbing the screens rigorously, replacing the screens with the storm windows. It was the same every year, every spring. He despised it. It was really the only kind of housework he held a passionate contempt for.
Dumbledore turned to face the room. As he did so he heard a sneeze came from the corner.
“So…Molly roped you in as well?” said a distinctly feminine voice that was all too familiar.
He looked at the woman kneeling on the floor dusting off the books that covered the walls. She sneezed again. She was wearing a Muggle sweatshirt and blue jeans. Long tendrils of hair had begun to work themselves free of the loose French braid she’d worked her hair into that morning before making her way to 12 Grimmauld Place.
“Unfortunately, it seems,” he said looking at the cloth in his hands.
Minerva looked up at her husband. “Tell me, Albus, how have you managed to evade her for so long? Have you got any tips you might like to share with me? You usually make up an excuse for me when I give you something to do around the cottage.”
“No, none that I care to share, my dear? And what do you mean ‘evade’? It’s only been a few weeks,” said Albus.
“Exactly. Every time you come, you always manage to slip through her fingers,” Minerva smirked at him before sneezing again as she closed a book that had fallen open next to her.
He couldn’t help but laugh a little. “Just lucky I guess,” he quipped. She flung her rag at him from her position on the floor. He sauntered over to her. “Now, Minerva, I hardly think that was necessary.”
She sneezed again as she stood up from her kneeling position only to find that she lost all feeling in her legs. She fell forward into her husband’s arms. He snaked his arms around her to support her as he continued to laugh.
“I think it was most definitely necessary,” she smirked leaning heavily into him. “Stop laughing! I can’t help being allergic to dust or that my legs fell asleep from kneeling all morning. Just keep that up, Albus, and you’ll be cleaning the entire cottage when we escape Molly’s clutches, including the window screens again. What?!”
Dumbledore continued to laugh. Minerva, slightly fed up, finally swat on the shoulder forcefully to make him stop.
“You had best let go of me or we’ll be caught. How would that look to the children to see their Transfiguration professor in the arms of their Headmaster?” she said making no move to extract herself from her husband’s arms.
Dumbledore feigning thoughtfulness, gazed out the window for a moment before she elbowed him lightly. “Well, my dear, it will probably look the same to them as it did to Jana and Caleb when they used catch us while you were washing the dishes.”
Minerva rested her head on her husband’s shoulder for a short moment, smiling at the memories. “I suppose you’re right…”
The two stood quietly for a time, each reveling the few cherished moments they were able to spend in the other’s arms. These moments were becoming scarcer and scarcer as the threat of Voldemort became ever-increasing. He rubbed his hands over her back and shoulder soothingly as they took advantage of serenity in the midst of the chaotic household. They rocked gently together, swaying to an inaudible stream of music.
“You know, Albus, I miss these short quiet moments,” Minerva said softly looking into the eyes she had lost herself in so many times over the years.
“You and me both, Minerva, you and me both,” said Albus as he gently cupped her face, lightly stroking her jaw line as he stared back into her eyes. He watched as her eyes fluttered before he leant close to catch her lips in the most tender of kisses.
The couple was unaware of the slight click of the parlor door opening to reveal four underage wizards witches. The four stood rooted on the spot one of whom was about to say something before his sister elbowed him forcefully. The sensible one of group executively decided the two locked in a tender embrace should be left to their devices and motioned for the four of them to close the door closely behind them quietly as they left. Unfortunately the gangly red-haired boy inadvertently tripped over his own foot knocking the other three into the wall causing a ruckus as they moved away from the room.
Albus and Minerva immediately broke apart at the noise and looked toward the door. To say they were shocked, well, that one of them was shocked would have been an understatement. She was already pushing away from her husband who still held her tightly.
“Albus…” she whispered in slight warning.
“Minerva, we may as well explain,” he said just as quietly. “We can’t get around it this time.”
Minerva sighed and leant her head against her husband’s chest once again. “I suppose you’re right… as always. Let’s just get this over with so we can go home.”
Dumbledore kissed her lightly and then took her hand squeezing tightly as they made their way to the kitchen where they knew would undoubtedly have an audience waiting for them.
“Just Another Day”
The ear-splitting screams of Mrs. Black reverberated through halls of the house of Black. It seemed, over the last few weeks, that that had become the norm. Number twelve Grimmauld Place had become the new designated headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix since Sirius had offered it up. The last few weeks had been devoted to ridding the old house of vermin and other infestations to make it inhabitable once again.
At the center of the extermination and disinfection processes was none other than the matriarchal, benevolent and often short-tempered Molly Weasley. Everyone who had set foot in the house did not escape through her fingers. She had thrust a handcloth, broom, bucket and mop, or other household cleaning products at anyone and everyone who came into the house. With strict orders not to come back to her until she called for dinner or supper or for her personal inspection, she set them to work on various parts of the house.
So it was on an unusually bright and sunny morning that Albus Dumbledore found himself being steered toward the receiving parlor of Grimmauld Place with a scrub brush and bottle of Witherton’s Best Window Cleaner as well as a bottle of vinegar for extra shine in hand.
“But, Molly,” he attempted to protest, “I only dropped by for a few minutes to inform Professor McGonagall that the proposal for the small increase in the school’s budget was granted as well as give her the paperwork she asked for. And I’m not exactly dressed for a day of cleaning” He stopped just short of the parlor door looking at the fiery haired woman with a temper to match before him.
Molly put a hand on his shoulder. “Nonsense, Professor Dumbledore,” she said waving away his excuses as she transfigured his lime green robes into a sensible pair of trousers and tweed shirt, “everyone needs to do their part to make this place up a bit, including you.” She smiled sweetly at him as she pushed him into the parlor, closing the door behind her.
Dumbledore stood gaping at the door, awkwardly holding the brush and cleaner in his hand as he looked over the clothes Molly transfigured for him. Dumbledore didn’t usually do the cleaning in his rooms. The house elves normally took care of that for him. As for summers at his cottage, well, he didn’t usually do the cleaning there either other than the occasional bit of laundry or washing dishes every now and then. Of course, he was relegated to do most of the outdoor work as well other than the gardens. He could handle that. He didn’t dare work in the gardens for fear of mistaking a rare flower for a weed.
Windows were another thing altogether. He dreaded cleaning windows. Taking down screens, scrubbing the screens rigorously, replacing the screens with the storm windows. It was the same every year, every spring. He despised it. It was really the only kind of housework he held a passionate contempt for.
Dumbledore turned to face the room. As he did so he heard a sneeze came from the corner.
“So…Molly roped you in as well?” said a distinctly feminine voice that was all too familiar.
He looked at the woman kneeling on the floor dusting off the books that covered the walls. She sneezed again. She was wearing a Muggle sweatshirt and blue jeans. Long tendrils of hair had begun to work themselves free of the loose French braid she’d worked her hair into that morning before making her way to 12 Grimmauld Place.
“Unfortunately, it seems,” he said looking at the cloth in his hands.
Minerva looked up at her husband. “Tell me, Albus, how have you managed to evade her for so long? Have you got any tips you might like to share with me? You usually make up an excuse for me when I give you something to do around the cottage.”
“No, none that I care to share, my dear? And what do you mean ‘evade’? It’s only been a few weeks,” said Albus.
“Exactly. Every time you come, you always manage to slip through her fingers,” Minerva smirked at him before sneezing again as she closed a book that had fallen open next to her.
He couldn’t help but laugh a little. “Just lucky I guess,” he quipped. She flung her rag at him from her position on the floor. He sauntered over to her. “Now, Minerva, I hardly think that was necessary.”
She sneezed again as she stood up from her kneeling position only to find that she lost all feeling in her legs. She fell forward into her husband’s arms. He snaked his arms around her to support her as he continued to laugh.
“I think it was most definitely necessary,” she smirked leaning heavily into him. “Stop laughing! I can’t help being allergic to dust or that my legs fell asleep from kneeling all morning. Just keep that up, Albus, and you’ll be cleaning the entire cottage when we escape Molly’s clutches, including the window screens again. What?!”
Dumbledore continued to laugh. Minerva, slightly fed up, finally swat on the shoulder forcefully to make him stop.
“You had best let go of me or we’ll be caught. How would that look to the children to see their Transfiguration professor in the arms of their Headmaster?” she said making no move to extract herself from her husband’s arms.
Dumbledore feigning thoughtfulness, gazed out the window for a moment before she elbowed him lightly. “Well, my dear, it will probably look the same to them as it did to Jana and Caleb when they used catch us while you were washing the dishes.”
Minerva rested her head on her husband’s shoulder for a short moment, smiling at the memories. “I suppose you’re right…”
The two stood quietly for a time, each reveling the few cherished moments they were able to spend in the other’s arms. These moments were becoming scarcer and scarcer as the threat of Voldemort became ever-increasing. He rubbed his hands over her back and shoulder soothingly as they took advantage of serenity in the midst of the chaotic household. They rocked gently together, swaying to an inaudible stream of music.
“You know, Albus, I miss these short quiet moments,” Minerva said softly looking into the eyes she had lost herself in so many times over the years.
“You and me both, Minerva, you and me both,” said Albus as he gently cupped her face, lightly stroking her jaw line as he stared back into her eyes. He watched as her eyes fluttered before he leant close to catch her lips in the most tender of kisses.
The couple was unaware of the slight click of the parlor door opening to reveal four underage wizards witches. The four stood rooted on the spot one of whom was about to say something before his sister elbowed him forcefully. The sensible one of group executively decided the two locked in a tender embrace should be left to their devices and motioned for the four of them to close the door closely behind them quietly as they left. Unfortunately the gangly red-haired boy inadvertently tripped over his own foot knocking the other three into the wall causing a ruckus as they moved away from the room.
Albus and Minerva immediately broke apart at the noise and looked toward the door. To say they were shocked, well, that one of them was shocked would have been an understatement. She was already pushing away from her husband who still held her tightly.
“Albus…” she whispered in slight warning.
“Minerva, we may as well explain,” he said just as quietly. “We can’t get around it this time.”
Minerva sighed and leant her head against her husband’s chest once again. “I suppose you’re right… as always. Let’s just get this over with so we can go home.”
Dumbledore kissed her lightly and then took her hand squeezing tightly as they made their way to the kitchen where they knew would undoubtedly have an audience waiting for them.
