Characters: Minerva McGonagall, Albus Dumbledore
Albus Dumbledore twisted the cord of his bathrobe between his fingers, absentmindedly. Upon his knee the morning’s Daily Prophet lay open, but he wasn’t really paying attention. His thoughts were light, but completely absorbing.
He wrapped the satin cord around one finger, then let it unravel to the floor, before starting the process all over again. The photographs moved around, waving, trying to draw his attention, but he was very much off in his own little world.
He reached out for his tea, lifting it off the low lying coffee table before him, and let the glittering strand of fabric fall to the floor again, pinned only by one hand against the side of the chair. As he sipped, and tried once again to concentrate on the articles before him, finger after finger of his free hand pulled at the cord, bunching it up, and dragging it, inch by inch, up the side of the chair.
A hand slammed against the chair so hard that he spilled the tea all over the paper. The pictures squeaked in alarm, and his attention snapped up to the woman sitting beside him, who was only as he looked recovering herself from the undignified action of grabbing at the cord.
Glancing up at him guiltily, she let the satin thread fall back onto the chair.
He couldn’t help it, a chuckle set his body shaking so much that he had to lay what left of the tea back down on the table.
“It’s not funny, Albus.”
He wiped at the tears in his eyes as he tried to regain his composure. “Yes, yes, I’m sorry, Minerva, I really shouldn’t tease you. Just I sometimes forget about how much of a kitten you really are.”