The dungeon, being occupied by Snape, was unattainable. Horace Slughorn grumbled in his abnormally large office. He leaned back in his plush, purple chair, put his feet up on his desk and grabbed some crystalised pineapple, getting comfortable and less agitated every second. Ah, he thought happily, this is the life! The knock on the door startled him.
"Come in," he called, moving his feet off of the desk and hastily shoving away the sweets, shuffling some papers to make it sound like he was doing work. McGonagall entered.
"Ah, Horace," she said pleasantly. "Correcting the 5th year's work, I see? No matter, let me help – " she waved her wand and there were suddenly many red markings on the papers, which jumped up and stacked themselves neatly in a folder on the side of the desk.
"Why, thank you, Minerva," said Slughorn nervously. "I was just about to do that."
"Yes, I'm sure you were." McGonagall sat down primly on a hard, wooden back chair, even though there was a perfectly good and more comfortable couch next to it. They sat in an awkward silence for a moment, until Slughorn, obviously unable to take anymore, burst out with, "Why are you here, Minerva?"
"Oh, right, yes!" cried McGonagall, uncharacteristically flustered. "I...er..." Slughorn eyed her suspiciously, wondering what's happening, completely not expecting what would happen, which no one really could.
"I was wondering if...er...you'd like to go to the Hog's Head and get some Firewhisky later on." She cleared her throat, and held up her chin, as though to recover what dignity she had left. She stood up, so as to make a quick exit, whatever his answer may be.
Slughorn blinked in surprise, not quite sure what to say. Had this been a professional outing, McGonagall would have not asked it in such a nervous fashion.
"I...er..." Slughorn stammered. He was still processing this new-found information.
"Oh, heavens, you mustn't think – oh, no! I was simply asking as friends – I mean, professionals, not even friends. But I can see you are busy. I'll leave you to it then." McGonagall left so quickly it was like she disapparated.
Slughorn blinked again, this time in confusion. What was with this author?