I F***ing Do!
Title: I F***ing Do! (Part 19)
Challenge: Creative Curses
Team: Order!
Word Count: 10 x 100
Rating: M (language)
Characters: Hermione, Severus, Minerva, Kingsley
Previous Chapter
A/N: The ninteenth part of the wedding saga of doom, and my last of the round-robin as I'm off on holiday. Huge thanks to duniazade for organising us, bravely letting me brit-pick her writing and all her support, and to dickgloucester, a_bees_buzz, bluestocking79, gilded_glamour and sc010f for all their support and their extremely amusing writing (especially Coco, who let me swap with her so I didn't miss my last turn)!!! Without further ado, I present...
“Tanzania?” Hermione squeaked.
“Ngorongoro Crater, Lake Manyara, Dar es Salaam and… the desert island of Zanzibar.”
Severus’ voice was ‘interesting’ when he was moody. When he was excited about something, it should have been illegal. For once, however, the effect didn’t register on Hermione.
“But-”
“Merlin’s cheesy feet! You have an objection, don’t you?” Severus groaned, carefully shifting position so he could stare at his fiancée in a suitably disappointed manner.
“But Nundus live there! You want to take me on our flipping honeymoon to a country where the most dangerous animal in the whole Kneazle-wanking world lives?”
Severus began ticking things off on his fingers.
It’s absolutely fucking beautiful. The wildlife is amazing. It’s varied - we can go on safari and laze on the beach. In October, the weather is fwooping perfect. And Horace and I have developed a Nundu vaccination.”
“Really?”
“Really. One injection into your arse cheek, and a Nundu’s breath just smells unpleasant. Like standing too close to my father, in fact.”
“And we’ll stay in…?”
“Magically invertebrate-proofed safari lodges. An island bungalow with an absolutely private beach. We can fuck like rabid Runespoors in the moonlight and swim naked in the Indian Ocean…”
The Healer at St Mungos was delighted that Severus had found another guinea-pig for Flamelixir’s new vaccine, but he still spent ten minutes grumbling to Hermione about leaving things to the last minute. With twelve days to go, the timing of her Diphtheria vaccine was not optimal. Healer Jeeves got his revenge by roughly jabbing seven types of shite out of her bum with his needles.
As a consequence, Hermione walked rather gingerly up the path to the front door of Hogwarts. She’d taken the day off work anyway, so she thought she’d ask Minerva how the preparations were going.
On her way up to the Headmistress’s office, Hermione was surprised to see Kingsley Shacklebolt.
“Afternoon, Hermione. I trust your wedding preparations are going well?”
“I’d say they were going to going to hell in a handcart, but that’s a devilishly overoptimistic assessment,” she replied. “What brings you to Hogwarts?”
“Oh, just visiting a friend.”
Kingsley shoved his hands into his pockets and tried to look innocent. Given that he was a politician, it was a terrible attempt. Changing the subject back to Hermione, he asked: “Who’s invited?”
“My parents, my grandmother, Uncle Alfie, Severus’ thrice-damned father-”
“But they’re all Muggles!”
“They’re family, Kingsley! And Minerva said it was okay. Severus arranged a Portkey from my parents’ house, and it’s costing a bloody Doxy arm and a Quintaped leg, I can tell you!”
“Minerva said that? Without consulting me first? She’s steamrollered my bloody Department of Magical Transportation?”
“Erm… Yes.”
“Right then. I need to have a word with that tartan toting bag of bones. Lead the way!”
Hermione found herself trotting awkwardly along, tender bottom protesting painfully with every jiggle, as the Minister for Magic trod repeatedly on her heels. Eventually, Kingsley bounded up the stairs in front of her.
“What in Nirvana’s name do you think you’re up to, Minerva?”
The Headmistress glanced up from her desk, startled, as Kingsley cannoned through her office door.
“Minister? What is the problem?”
“You’re the problem, Plimpy-knickers! I would have thought, given your great age and vast education, that you had heard about a thing called the International fucking Statute of Wizard buggering Secrecy!”
“Not precisely that, no.”
“What’s all this about Muggles at Hogwarts?”
Minerva’s lips puckered in a dog arse tight manner.
“As the Headmistress of Hogwarts, I have the authority to invite whomsoever I wish to this school!”
“Even if you decide to ignore the Ministry whenever you feel like it - and lets face it, that is the Aberforthing norm here - bringing Muggles to Hogwarts contravenes international law!” retorted Kingsley.
“Severus and Hermione are getting married, Kingsley. It’s a very important occasion in our history!” the Headmistress blustered.
“Oi! Don’t bloody start politicising our wedding, Minerva. I’ve already warned you about that!” Hermione interjected.
“The Confederation would be crapping like Clabberts if they found out what you’re planning. It might even affect the success of your Mugwumpsy application.” added Kingsley silkily.
“You overblown, overpaid, over shiny, twatting Auror!”
Minerva stood up and planted her knuckles on her desk. Two pink spots flamed in her cheeks.
“Hermione! How many Muggles have you invited?”
“Five.”
“And how many do not know that you and Severus are a witch and a wizard?”
“None. Granny and Uncle Alfie saw me turn a whistle in to a watch and make it sing me the time when I was six, you see.”
“Well, then. As they are aware of the existence of the magical world already, I don’t see a Pixie-bollocking problem!”
“That’s what Mum and I thought. Granny’s fucking furious about it, though.”
“Whether or not they know about Severus and Hermione isn’t the issue, you stubborn old cow!” snapped Kingsley. “I have nothing against Muggle relations, per se. It’s deliberately opening our world up to them that’s the problem. We can’t extract a wand-oath that they won’t tell anyone, and Obliviation or Confundment would at least partially defeat the object of them attending this Jabberwocky turd of a wedding!”
“They are coming! Minerva screeched. “And if you try and stop it, I’ll send an owl to saggy-tits Skeeter informing her that for the last two months you’ve been shagging my flying instructor!”
Kingsley went absolutely still.
“Rolanda?” exclaimed Hermione, trying desperately to dissipate the tension. “How sweet! It’s difficult to find somebody when you’re a war hero, let alone Minister!”
“She’s as happy as a Flobberworm in shit, and I don’t want to be the one forcing the two of you to go public before you’re ready,” Minerva informed Kingsley. “Give Hermione and Severus their family on their wedding day, and I’ll ensure my staff remains discreet.”
Kingsley simply nodded, squeezed Hermione’s shoulder and marched out of the room.
Minerva smirked at Hermione.
“So! Where at Hogwarts do you want the ceremony?”
A/Ns
1. According to ‘Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them’ Nundus are gigantic leopards that live in east Africa. Their breath causes diseases virulent enough to wipe out entire villages, and they are arguably the most dangerous beasts in the word.
2. The International Confederation of Wizards is headed by the Supreme Mugwump.
3. Whistle to watch description courtesy of Mad-Eye Moody (GoF).
Challenge: Creative Curses
Team: Order!
Word Count: 10 x 100
Rating: M (language)
Characters: Hermione, Severus, Minerva, Kingsley
Previous Chapter
A/N: The ninteenth part of the wedding saga of doom, and my last of the round-robin as I'm off on holiday. Huge thanks to duniazade for organising us, bravely letting me brit-pick her writing and all her support, and to dickgloucester, a_bees_buzz, bluestocking79, gilded_glamour and sc010f for all their support and their extremely amusing writing (especially Coco, who let me swap with her so I didn't miss my last turn)!!! Without further ado, I present...
“Tanzania?” Hermione squeaked.
“Ngorongoro Crater, Lake Manyara, Dar es Salaam and… the desert island of Zanzibar.”
Severus’ voice was ‘interesting’ when he was moody. When he was excited about something, it should have been illegal. For once, however, the effect didn’t register on Hermione.
“But-”
“Merlin’s cheesy feet! You have an objection, don’t you?” Severus groaned, carefully shifting position so he could stare at his fiancée in a suitably disappointed manner.
“But Nundus live there! You want to take me on our flipping honeymoon to a country where the most dangerous animal in the whole Kneazle-wanking world lives?”
Severus began ticking things off on his fingers.
It’s absolutely fucking beautiful. The wildlife is amazing. It’s varied - we can go on safari and laze on the beach. In October, the weather is fwooping perfect. And Horace and I have developed a Nundu vaccination.”
“Really?”
“Really. One injection into your arse cheek, and a Nundu’s breath just smells unpleasant. Like standing too close to my father, in fact.”
“And we’ll stay in…?”
“Magically invertebrate-proofed safari lodges. An island bungalow with an absolutely private beach. We can fuck like rabid Runespoors in the moonlight and swim naked in the Indian Ocean…”
The Healer at St Mungos was delighted that Severus had found another guinea-pig for Flamelixir’s new vaccine, but he still spent ten minutes grumbling to Hermione about leaving things to the last minute. With twelve days to go, the timing of her Diphtheria vaccine was not optimal. Healer Jeeves got his revenge by roughly jabbing seven types of shite out of her bum with his needles.
As a consequence, Hermione walked rather gingerly up the path to the front door of Hogwarts. She’d taken the day off work anyway, so she thought she’d ask Minerva how the preparations were going.
On her way up to the Headmistress’s office, Hermione was surprised to see Kingsley Shacklebolt.
“Afternoon, Hermione. I trust your wedding preparations are going well?”
“I’d say they were going to going to hell in a handcart, but that’s a devilishly overoptimistic assessment,” she replied. “What brings you to Hogwarts?”
“Oh, just visiting a friend.”
Kingsley shoved his hands into his pockets and tried to look innocent. Given that he was a politician, it was a terrible attempt. Changing the subject back to Hermione, he asked: “Who’s invited?”
“My parents, my grandmother, Uncle Alfie, Severus’ thrice-damned father-”
“But they’re all Muggles!”
“They’re family, Kingsley! And Minerva said it was okay. Severus arranged a Portkey from my parents’ house, and it’s costing a bloody Doxy arm and a Quintaped leg, I can tell you!”
“Minerva said that? Without consulting me first? She’s steamrollered my bloody Department of Magical Transportation?”
“Erm… Yes.”
“Right then. I need to have a word with that tartan toting bag of bones. Lead the way!”
Hermione found herself trotting awkwardly along, tender bottom protesting painfully with every jiggle, as the Minister for Magic trod repeatedly on her heels. Eventually, Kingsley bounded up the stairs in front of her.
“What in Nirvana’s name do you think you’re up to, Minerva?”
The Headmistress glanced up from her desk, startled, as Kingsley cannoned through her office door.
“Minister? What is the problem?”
“You’re the problem, Plimpy-knickers! I would have thought, given your great age and vast education, that you had heard about a thing called the International fucking Statute of Wizard buggering Secrecy!”
“Not precisely that, no.”
“What’s all this about Muggles at Hogwarts?”
Minerva’s lips puckered in a dog arse tight manner.
“As the Headmistress of Hogwarts, I have the authority to invite whomsoever I wish to this school!”
“Even if you decide to ignore the Ministry whenever you feel like it - and lets face it, that is the Aberforthing norm here - bringing Muggles to Hogwarts contravenes international law!” retorted Kingsley.
“Severus and Hermione are getting married, Kingsley. It’s a very important occasion in our history!” the Headmistress blustered.
“Oi! Don’t bloody start politicising our wedding, Minerva. I’ve already warned you about that!” Hermione interjected.
“The Confederation would be crapping like Clabberts if they found out what you’re planning. It might even affect the success of your Mugwumpsy application.” added Kingsley silkily.
“You overblown, overpaid, over shiny, twatting Auror!”
Minerva stood up and planted her knuckles on her desk. Two pink spots flamed in her cheeks.
“Hermione! How many Muggles have you invited?”
“Five.”
“And how many do not know that you and Severus are a witch and a wizard?”
“None. Granny and Uncle Alfie saw me turn a whistle in to a watch and make it sing me the time when I was six, you see.”
“Well, then. As they are aware of the existence of the magical world already, I don’t see a Pixie-bollocking problem!”
“That’s what Mum and I thought. Granny’s fucking furious about it, though.”
“Whether or not they know about Severus and Hermione isn’t the issue, you stubborn old cow!” snapped Kingsley. “I have nothing against Muggle relations, per se. It’s deliberately opening our world up to them that’s the problem. We can’t extract a wand-oath that they won’t tell anyone, and Obliviation or Confundment would at least partially defeat the object of them attending this Jabberwocky turd of a wedding!”
“They are coming! Minerva screeched. “And if you try and stop it, I’ll send an owl to saggy-tits Skeeter informing her that for the last two months you’ve been shagging my flying instructor!”
Kingsley went absolutely still.
“Rolanda?” exclaimed Hermione, trying desperately to dissipate the tension. “How sweet! It’s difficult to find somebody when you’re a war hero, let alone Minister!”
“She’s as happy as a Flobberworm in shit, and I don’t want to be the one forcing the two of you to go public before you’re ready,” Minerva informed Kingsley. “Give Hermione and Severus their family on their wedding day, and I’ll ensure my staff remains discreet.”
Kingsley simply nodded, squeezed Hermione’s shoulder and marched out of the room.
Minerva smirked at Hermione.
“So! Where at Hogwarts do you want the ceremony?”
A/Ns
1. According to ‘Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them’ Nundus are gigantic leopards that live in east Africa. Their breath causes diseases virulent enough to wipe out entire villages, and they are arguably the most dangerous beasts in the word.
2. The International Confederation of Wizards is headed by the Supreme Mugwump.
3. Whistle to watch description courtesy of Mad-Eye Moody (GoF).