Ministerial kneepads

Disclaimer: Story based on characters and plot owned by J. K. Rowling, Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books, Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros. Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended with the following.

“Rita, is that you?” Harry's voice is muffled as his mouth is pressed against soft flesh.

A blonde witch, flexible, with ankles by her ears, frowns. “Harry? I'm Lavender?”

“Yeah, I know, Lav. But we have a voyeur, in every sense of the word.” Harry dons his glasses and, after a quick glance around the room, spies the beetle. “You may as well transform. It won't do for you to stay like that.” Harry absently twirls his wand in his fingers.

In an instant, a second blonde witch appears on the nearby love seat, her tight skirt and blouse and lurid makeup lending her a trashy air. “Harry, dahling...”

“Rita,” Harry answers, coolly, as his companion pulls the covers over her exposed body.

“It's been what, three months?” Her smile is as wicked as ever.

“Two. I heard you've registered?”

Rita's jaw tenses. “I didn't have a choice, not with what you did last time.”

“Harry?” Lavender's curiosity piques.

“Oh, I gave her an ultimatum after I cashed in a life debt.”

“A life debt?! You were trying to kill me!”

Harry turns to his lover and former Hogwarts classmate to see that an explanation is in order. “It's a bit of a long story, Lav. At my last flat, Rita found the address--how I don't know, it was unplottable. Anyway, she snuck in in as a bug--Rita's a beetle animagus, by the way--when a bunch of us guys pissed on the floor, passed out and in knickers or starkers. It was Seamus's stag night, which was a blur to me after the dancers left. A few days later, The Prophet headlined with us in a “drunken orgy” of, what were your words again, “steamy hot man love?””

“Harry,” she purrs, “I ate for two months off that scoop. Would have been six if I had Bozo with me for photos.”

“So, I laid a trap. The next time Rita came by, she found herself in a bit of a tough spot...”

“Understatement,” the witch grumbles, uncharacteristically terse, as she readies a pad and Quick-Quotes quill.

“I caught her and dropped her beetle into an unbreakable glass, filled halfway. I figured if the dive didn't get her, the endurance swim might....”

“That doesn't sound so bad, Harry,” Lavender says as she massages Harry's shoulders.

“But...but...” Harry silences Rita with a gesture of his wand.

“She called during breakfast... which is quite rude, I might add.” Harry delivers the latter comment to the reporter. “I didn't want to interrupt our meal as I was entertaining, um, a couple of guests, so we let her be for a bit. Well, maybe an hour or two. Not longer than three, I'm sure.”

Rita reddens with fury, the silencing spell forestalling an eruption. “You wish to add something, Rita?” Harry smiles sweetly, then removes the spell.

“Yes, you bastard! You neglected to say what was in the glass! What I had to swim in all morning!”

“Oh, um, itwasurine.”

Lavender says, “I beg your pardon?”

“It might have been urine, okay?” His companion looks a bit sick. “I allowed Rita to leave, but not until she made an unbreakable vow to register her animagus form and leave me alone for a few months.”

“Which I did.”

“Two is “a few?””

“Close enough for government work.”

“On that topic, who did you go to to get my address? It couldn't have been Bones, since I don't think she swings that way. Umbridge might, but even you wouldn't stoop so low. Arthur wouldn't, not when he gets it every night as is....”

“I won't tell my sources, Harry. You know that.”

“That's fine. You don't have to tell me it was Percy.” Rita's eyes widen as Harry smirks.

“Well, I don't know about you, Lav, but I'm up for a bit of a challenge.” The witch answers him with a coy smile. “Here's the new deal, Rita. You can stay and watch tonight if you like. I even welcome you to report whatever you see and come back as often as you like, until something “highly unlikely” happens.”

Harry makes a silent gesture with his wand and a bottle of red wine and three goblets float into the room. “And I'll even let you choose what that “highly unlikely” thing is.” He pours glasses for the two witches and himself. “But then I have your unbreakable vow that you will leave me alone forever and you won't write or speak about me to anyone. The challenge to me will be to make that thing happen. And to be fair, I'm not allowed to use the Imperius curse or any compulsion hexes or potions. The terms sound agreeable?” He takes a sip of wine.

Rita pauses for a moment as she swirls her wine. “Deal!” The three clink their glasses and Harry and Lavender take sips of wine. Rita has a wry look on her face. “I'll leave you alone after...” She looks at Harry and loses herself for a moment in his twinkling eyes. “I drink your semen.”

Surprised she said that, Rita brings the goblet almost to her lips and notes how one of Harry's eyebrows rises. She lowers her glass and adds, wryly, “...from the source, Harry, something I can assure you won't happen for a very long time, not when you're as much as paying my rent.” Harry sighs as Rita cackles and swears her vow. She takes a large swallow of wine and drawls, “this is excellent. It wouldn't do for you to taint such good hooch, Harry dahling.” She smiles. “Now, snap to it. Witch Weekly will pay me a fortune for firsthand reporting of your fetishes.”

Harry and Lavender renew their amorous ministrations, seemingly oblivious to their mumbling spectator. Hours later, a sexually frustrated Rita apparates to her flat and tries to review her notes which, much to her dismay, are gibberish. She tries to recall the details of an evening that moments before were so vivid, yet now elude her. All she can remember with any clarity is her vow.

A tapping at the window reveals a white owl bearing a message:

Rita, I've been brewing polyjuice since I was 12. -HJP

A lock of red hair falls out of the envelope.