Albus Dumbledore sat in his high-backed chair, his Half-moon Spectacles slipped down to the tip of his nose, his fingers resting motionless on the armrests.
A dish of Lemon Drops sat on the desk.
Untouched.
In the somewhat stuffy office.
The sweets had begun to melt, syrup slowly trickling over the rim of the dish and tracing a sticky arc across the dark oak desktop.
Fawkes perched on his stand, his golden-red feathers slightly fluffed, his head tilted as he watched him.
"Do you know, Fawkes,"
Dumbledore's voice was airy, as though it had drifted in from somewhere far away.
"I've lived a hundred and fifteen years. I've seen two wizarding wars. I saw that afternoon when Grindelwald raised his scepter atop the tower at Nurmengard."
He paused.
"But I've never seen-"
His gaze fell on the view outside the window.
Moonlight shone on the spires of Hogwarts.
"-a thousand-year-old school turn into a clockwork factory in a single month."
Three knocks sounded at the door.
The rhythm was unhurried.
It was Douglas's rhythm.
"Come in."
The door opened.
Douglas wore a dark gray sweater washed so often it had pilled, and carried his Stainless Steel Thermos.
The lid was unscrewed, and the scent of Chinese plum wine drifted out.
"Professor, you're still awake."
Douglas said.
"So are you."
Douglas sat in the chair opposite Dumbledore.
The chair automatically adjusted its height and angle, the latest everyday product from the Marauders Company, designed to put everyone who sat in it into the most comfortable position.
Douglas took a sip of Chinese plum wine.
Dumbledore watched him.
The silence lasted for who knew how long.
Douglas remained perfectly at ease, without using Occlumency.
Fawkes yawned.
"Go ahead, Headmaster."
Douglas spoke first.
"You didn't call me here for a late-night snack."
The