Disclaimer: Though JK Rowling owns the characters in this story, I don't think she intended this pairing.


Skeeter Infestation, or, Aberforth is Bugged

Rita Skeeter was livid to say the least. She had her chartreuse green suit on under her matching cloak. Her red toenails peeking out of the unnecessarily high tan pumps which clicked along the slate floors of the Ministry. She had a copy of the Daily Prophet and a copy of the new marriage law in the tan portfolio that matched her purse and shoes. The purse strap was arranged across her body for full effect. It was meant to show the proper amount of cleavage peeking out from the white silk blouse. Her lips were the same shade of red that coated her nails, hands and feet. Where she had found the same shade of chartreuse eye shadow, one could only guess. Then again she was a witch and probably had done a charm. Her blonde hair was neatly coiffed in the same style she had been wearing for the last thirty years, though she would not admit to the age. In reality she was nearer Molly Weasley's age than Ginny's. She marched up to the door of the Minister's Office flashing her press credentials to help clear the way.

"I want to speak with Kingsley," Rita demanded.

"You and half the witches in the Isles," Millicent Bulstrode retorted. "You cannot be admitted without an appointment."

"This marriage law is a farce," the agitated blonde witch countered. "I demand admission."

"You and whose army?" Millicent stood her ground. Kingsley Shacklebolt had been proud of snatching up the former Slytherin Beater to be his receptionist slash bouncer. She was an efficient and helpful receptionist/personal assistant that got along well with her boss. Nobody got past Millie into his office unless he said so. "You may make an appointment. How much time do you need five or ten minutes? I have a five minute appointment at five minutes past one on Wednesday next. Or, if you need ten minutes it will be at six twenty in the morning two weeks from tomorrow."

"You insolent witch! I have press credentials!" Rita shouted.

"Yes, I am. Oh, in that case, I have an opening on the first of next month." Millicent smiled nicely, "Now please leave or I will eject you." She drew her wand and pointed it at the angry witch. "Get out!"

"I WANT TO SEE KINGSLEY, NOW!"

"You are inappropriately calling him by his given name in this office," Millie admonished. "It is Minister Shacklebolt and you are out of line. Please leave."

Hermione walked in on the last of the conversation. "I'm here for my ten o'clock appointment with the Minister," she said. "Miss Skeeter, are you bugging Miss Bulstrode? We can't have that, can we?" Hermione raised an eyebrow and made a motion like she was looking for something in her leather portfolio.

"No, Miss Granger. I was just leaving," stuttered the blonde. "I will owl for an appointment, Miss Bulstrode." She backed out of the office keeping an eye on Hermione.

"What was that about?" Millie asked Hermione. "She was just about to be ejected, but I have never seen her turn tail so quickly."

"Let's just say that I have some dirt on her and she definitely would not like her secret broadcast," Hermione smirked.

Millie chuckled, "That is worthy of a Slytherin. Are you sure you were sorted correctly?"

"The hat wanted to put me in Ravenclaw. Draco says I should be a Slytherin from time to time, also."

"That figures," the receptionist remarked, "you were the smartest in our year, but always getting into and out of trouble." She rose to escort the gentleman from the Minister's Office and announce Hermione's arrival. "Thank you for coming in Mr. Dumbledore," she said as she opened the outer door. She returned to the office and knocked. At his beckoning she announced, "Minister, your next appointment is here and Miss Skeeter will be owling for a meeting."

"Can you schedule for any time after she is married? Aberforth is insisting on an early wedding and that she move to Hogsmeade to live with him," Kingsley replied. "He knows it will be a task, but has already petitioned for a sperm donor. We will let him tell her, okay?" Then he said, "Please show Hermione in."

Aberforth Dumbledore was no spring chicken, but neither was his intended bride. He was one of the few who remembered that she had completed her schooling at Hogwarts in 1969. She operated on the mistaken presumption that since her birthday was February twenty-ninth* that since she only had one birthday every four years she was aging at the same rate. Well, after she completed her schooling at Hogwarts at seventeen. Anyone who saw her wrinkles knew she was more than twenty-four and three quarters years. He snorted at the ludicrousness of that idea. He decided that he would let her sweat, but he was not going to procreate with the woman. He had contacted his mediwizard and gotten a letter stating that he was sterile; therefore they were in need of a sperm donor. The idea of Miss Skeeter sitting around and pregnant made him chuckle until he remembered that he had to live with her. Well, it could be no worse than a herd of pregnant goats.

Rita Skeeter was angry with the Ministry, she was angry with the Wizengamot, and she was extremely angry with Hermione Granger. The Minister could have at least met with her to discuss the situation. After all she was the frigging press and deserved a meeting. The Wizengamot was out of its collective brain with this law. Why were they making adults marry? They only made the witches from 14 to 17 marry in the first time the law had been enacted. The oldest in all the history of the law was 23. Even with her amended age, she was 24! This was the first time that the witches' ages had been extended. In the past there had even been incarnations where each married wizard was given a second witch, but never had older witches been visited with this injustice. And where does Hermione Jean Granger get off blackmailing her again. If she were to just register and pay the fines, but then again she would lose scoops. The scoops were what made Rita Skeeter Rita Skeeter. Without them Rita Skeeter would be just another boring newspaper reporter. The fact that she was mordacious was how she kept her edge.

The tapping of a motley owl broke Rita's reverie. Taking the parchment that was tied with butchers' twine, Rita gave the bird a treat. It waited for a reply so she decided to bite the proverbial bullet and read the note.

Dear Miss Skeeter,

Since we are to be married within the next three months, I request the pleasure of your company at dinner Friday next at seven o'clock. I will pick you up at escort you to the Leaky Cauldron where I have made reservations. Please dress casually as informal dress is de régulier for that establishment.

Respectfully,

Aberforth Dumbledore

Rita waved her hand and her dicto-quill, similar to the Quick-Quotes Quill she used for interviews, and said, "Mr. Dumbledore, In reference your letter of this date, I will attend dinner with you. I do not dress casually no matter what the rest of the clientele wear in that establishment. R. Skeeter." The quill wrote the note on a small parchment which rolled itself and lay finished in her hand ready to be tied to the owl. She tied the note to the owl and opened the window for it to leave the flat.

Friday night the Leaky Cauldron was busy. There were many of the newly engaged couples therefore Tom had extra help serving and taking orders. Hannah Abbot had to postpone her date until after closing time, as did Luna Lovegood. Aberforth Dumbledore entered the establishment wearing his second best robes in sort of a dingy brown color. They were clean, but by no means stylish. Miss Skeeter was wearing a set of lime green robes fresh from the pages of Witches Wear Daily. They were shown to a table in a secluded nook where, ever the gentleman he pulled out her chair, before seating himself. After giving their order to Hannah, they both cast muffliato charms so they could not be overheard.

"When are we getting married?" Aberforth was straight to the point.

"I'm not moving to Hogsmeade," Rita replied, ignoring the question.

"You are moving to the Hogs Head where I have rooms," Aberforth replied quietly. "The Ministry requires we live together, spending no more than twelve hours apart per day. I live where I work."

"But, but, but," she sputtered. "What about my job?"

"You sound like a muggle motor boat." Aberforth countered, "You can work. You just have to come home at night. Besides when you are pregnant you will probably not want to be working as much."

"I am not having sex with you," she replied through gritted teeth.

"How else do you plan on getting pregnant?" he questioned with the Dumbledore patented twinkle in his bright blue eyes. "Shouldn't we be discussing the wedding?"

"Oh, whenever you want to do it," the frustrated witch acquiesced. "Can't we just get married at the Ministry "and get it over with? The sooner, the better!"

"Good because we can go now," the groom replied. "I just happen to have an appointment with the Department of Vital Happenings, Bureau of Marriage at eight o'clock tomorrow morning. We can get wedded then. After that we can see about getting you bedded."

When Rita realized what had happened she turned a green that matched her suit, or was it just a reflection in the poor light of the Leaky Cauldron?


*Since JKR gave no exact date for her birth and my research says that Rita Skeeter was born approximately 1951, I just moved it into February of 1952 to make the age work for this story. That is only a few months from canon.