Disclaimer: J.K.'s. Not mine. Not making money.
Hey all. This plot bunny just popped into my head and I had to write it. Don't worry; I'm still working on TNQLL. Promise.
Memory Lapses
He was odd. Eccentric. She knew this. Merlin, after all these years of working together he could have showed up in nothing but his socks, asked her to brew coffee in Dobby's tea cozy, and she would have replied with a raised eyebrow and "de-caff?"
However, this newest development was a little… stranger than normal.
They had been having tea together. Idly debating whether or not wizards chess promoted violence in children (they has agreed to disagree), when he picked up a remembrall, previously confiscated, which had been lying by her cup. He began to play with it.
"Come now, Albus," she had chided. "Surely you know those things are useless."
"Even if that was so, Minerva, I couldn't use them anyway." To her puzzled look he added, "You see, my dear, every time I hold one it turns red. But I don't remember what it is that I've forgotten." Indeed, the remembrall's smoke had turned scarlet, and he looked rather sad.
She had briskly commented he was better off without, and they had returned to their tea.
However, she had thought it strange, even as she chalked it up to bizarre Dumbledore genes. She eventually forgot about the whole episode.
Sometime later, one evening, she was dressing for bed when there was a knock at her door. She had answered it to find him. Before she could so much as comment on his slippers (squirrels, from what she could see), he was inside the room and placing his arms around her waist. He kissed her softly, letting one hand slide up into her unbound hair. Just when she began responding, placing her arms around his neck, moving her lips against his, he pulled away and began rummaging for something in his pocket. She attempted to reign in control of her breathing.
He found what he was seeking and pulled it out.
"Ah," he said, satisfied.
This time, the remembrall remained white.