Pairings: Implied Adelaide Alderton (Original Female Character)/Cornelius Fudge, implied Snarry
Warnings (highlight to view): *For artistic reading given by a writer, fake English accent, implied bondage, implied erotical use of a potion, implied figging, implied gagging, and implied temporary sex-switch.*
Word Count/Length: 669/5:09
Summary: Laide ties up a few loose ends.
Disclaimer: This piece is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling; various publishers, including, but not limited to: Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books, Raincoast Books; and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Author's Notes: This is an "outtake" from the first of my 2008 Snarry Author Games fics, Amidst the Doxies. Thank you, eeyore9990, fodirteg, and shiv5468, for beta'ing.
Dictating a Letter to Rita (transcript)
"29 May 2011
"18a Diagon Alley, London
"My Darling Rita,
"Oh, dear! How silly of me to have failed to mention the modifications that I made to the Phoenix Draught before taking my leave of Feathers—but they were sincerely meant ones, you see, for I did spy how Mr Wand enjoyed his Inspiration all unprick'd upon occasion.
"Tell me truthfully, for you understand how all forms of deceit are anathema to me: has ever a wizard enjoyed such a bosom as the one Mr Inspiration is sporting now? Certainly not for as long, I believe, as Polyjuice's potency is nothing to that of my Phoenix draught. Of course, I do understand why some of my old guests might be taken aback—or in whatever manner—to find themselves as Tiresias, but then, as I always say, some people have no appreciation for the classics and will not accept change without a well-positioned nudge. That these same guests have a deep knowledge of wizard law is unfortunate, but perhaps matters will not come to a head before I can provide the antidote that will restore Mr Inspiration's.
"Oh, yes, I did brew an antidote, for you know how I have never enjoyed petting pussy as much as some, and, by the tone of your latest Howler, it seems that Mr Wand has rigidly fixed upon the idea of sheathing his own in heroic buttocks again, as opposed to what must be a rather fascinating fanny. I will send him, with my compliments and at no charge—for you remember what a gentle, sentimental creature I am—my brewing notes detailing my happy little elixir as soon as Mr Wand thrusts my manuscript forward for collection.
"I trust that he shall see reason in this trifling matter, particularly when you inform him that his dearest bo—that is, girl, will be increasing her cup sizes for the next seven years unless and until she receives my remarkable restorative.
"Do tell Mr Wand not to fret overmuch about the loss of my manuscript, for I am of a mind to Transfigure my memoirs into a work of fiction. Everyone knows what magnificent liars novelists are, and I shall find it fulfilling, indeed, to allow my readers to believe that I have produced such a prodigious number of . . . juicy tales.
"I am only sorry I cannot see them; the Unplotting plays hell with scrying.
"Ah, but one must not dwell on old flames. No indeed, not when Fudgie is looking at me with such yearning in his eyes. Remember our little game with the ginger? Of course you do—you always did enjoy Beatrice.
"Give everyone my love, one teaspoon at a time and for twelve hours together without fail, and remember me, a brewer of more than discourse, as you finish drinking your morning tea. As it happens, it, too, is a blend of mine—but I assure you that it will not cause you to unceasingly pluck.
"Time is mon—that is, tempus fugit, dear girl!
"All my very best,
"Where is my head? No, Rita, that is not a rhetorical question. Two things: the Doxy will know how to find me. Do not attempt to do the same. You certainly should not be over-exerting yourself just now, and thank you, again, for your marvellous wedding gift of the Dicta-a-Quill. I have found more uses for it than I can count. In truth, this fact pains me slightly, for I am an accomplished counter, but only just, as I find that retirement agrees with me."
("Now then, Fudgie, where were we? Oh, I remember! I was giving you time to think upon your intercourse with my sister, Mary, to whom you wrote the most astonishing missives . . . . Perhaps you would enjoy a demonstration worthy of true astonishment, then? Yes, you need one.")