A/N: I honestly don't know where this came from, but a few nights ago at four in the morning, I was happy as a clown and writing this. :D I think it resulted from writing the angst of "This Man Was Mad" (which has no connection to this story whatsoever), and I thought about writing humor for once, to see if I could manage it. Well, here you are, tell me how poorly I've performed! :D This is unfinished so expect some updates in the future-- I'm not sure how long it's going to be, so proceed with caution. :D (Also, for the record, I promise this is the final update of 2009. I don't have anything else to publish that has been edited, except perhaps a chapter for "A Lingering Knowledge", but I don't want you dear readers thinking that I'm writing for that when I'm not. xD) Anyway, without further ado, read on!

Hairy Harassment

Warmth was usually a luxury in the cold light of early morning, barring the chill of the air back to claim another sorry soul. However, this morning, the warmth was unwelcome. Minerva McGonagall woke to warmth- unbearable, pressing, suffocating warmth, and did not find air until she opened her eyes only to discover the ivory sea before her.

She had lived through mouthfuls of hair before- irritating though it was when she was younger, she still could breathe past the gagging reflex slowly building at the back of her throat. This time, retching was useless, she knew it, and though she stubbornly knew he would deserve last night's dinner all in his beard, she seized the offending facial hair and swam to the surface, coughing and sputtering as if her last breath was from hours ago. As she gazed at her surroundings, no longer blind, her mouth fell open.

Albus's beard was everywhere.

Not that it always wasn't, of course. It had gagged her more than once before, but this- this was ridiculous. The beard seemed to have tripled upon tripled both its length and volume, and Minerva wondered where it ended for it even trailed to the door. Frowning, she glanced at the moving mass of hair that should be her sleeping husband and she shook it- roughly.

"Albus!" she exclaimed, her irritancy flaring faster than the speed of light. "Albus, you blasted man, wake up!"

He didn't need telling twice after that. He groaned, but instead of rising, he settled more comfortably in their bed and snored on. Minerva wondered how he could even snore in this mess of beard- perhaps it hindered his hearing. Finding she had no other choice, Minerva untangled her wand from the hairy bedside table and pointed it at her throat.

"ALBUS DUMBLEDORE! RISE FROM THIS BED AT ONCE!"

The effect was instantaneous; the snoring mass of hair seemed to jump out of its skin before Albus was breathing heavily on his feet beside the bed. His eyes closed, he asked wearily, "Whatever in the world did I do to deserve a waking like that?" Being greatly intuitive, Albus sensed his enraged wife scrambling for words, and Albus planned to beat her to it, but he opened his eyes first- and this, he realized, was the source of her fury.

"Whatever in the world--" huffed Minerva, looking at him with a blaze in her eyes, "--did you do to produce this?!"

Albus stroked his chin thoughtfully, eying his surroundings and discovering them entirely hairy, he simply said, "It surely must have been that odd custard tart I had yesterday evening for dessert… It particularly didn't sit well with my stomach and that was what caused this."

"There are two things wrong with your brilliant theory, Albus," Minerva spat, shaking from head to toe, "first, I tried the blasted tart after you complained about it and I remain unaffected. Second, WHERE ON EARTH HAVE YOU LEARNED ANYTHING?! ONE'S STOMACH CONTENTS HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH THE RATE OF HAIR GROWTH!"

Albus smiled, the threat being far too irresistible to combat as he said softly, "As a matter of fact Minerva, what we eat has quite a lot to do with how fast--"

"Explain this!" She shouted. "One night ago you were as fit as a fiddle. Not an ordinary fiddle, may I hasten to add, but fit nonetheless! You can't expect to convince me that one night and one odd dessert CAN PRODUCE SUCH RESULTS!"

"Minerva, I am sure we can--"

"Not to this mass, we cannot!" She exclaimed, the fire burning wilder in her fierce emerald eyes. "This much hair is too much to even cut with ordinary shears!"

Albus fumbled in his dressing gown a moment (if he even was wearing one; it was impossible to tell) before he triumphantly extracted his wand with a smile. "Aha! Now we can do something about this!" he remarked cheerfully as he raised it to the sky and waved it like a baton, but nothing happened. Frowning in great thought, Albus pointed the wand between the center of his eyes, attempting to examine it, but this only resulted in him going cross-eyed. Dazed and bleary-eyed, he stumbled around the hairy room, knocking over a few things in his beard before he regained his balance.

Minerva stood on the opposite side of the bed, shaking her head disdainfully. "I am taking a shower," she announced irritably, her temper cooled for the time being as she trekked to the door, the journey quite mountainous. As she reached it, she gathered heaps of silver hair in her arms, clearing the doorway in order to open it, and as soon as this was done, she slammed the door shut behind her, leaving Albus entirely alone to deal with his beard problem.