Disclaimer: I'll write it later . . .

Schmoo

"What is . . . Hermione?" McGonagall said in delight. "What can I do for you?"

"I was hoping that you could call Dobby," Hermione said sweetly. "I need to speak with him."

"Harry Potter sir's Hermy wishes to speak with Dobby?" A voice squeaked from behind Hermione.

"Thanks Professor," Hermione said as she shut off the floo. "I was wondering if you'd be willing to help me deal with some evil muggles, but it has to be a secret."

"Dobby can keep secrets," the little elf agreed.

"Ok." Hermione wrote out a quick note. "I need you to make sure the people going to this convention get this potion in their food."

"Dobby understands."

"And take their wallets and anything in their hotel rooms," Hermione continued. "Oh, and block the doors on all the toilets if you think of it. Could you do that for me Dobby?"

"Dobby can do it," the elf agreed.

"Ok, I'll pay you fifty galleons and . . ."

"Fifty Galleons?" Dobby cried in dismay. "One Knut."

"Erk . . . twenty Galleons."

"One Galleon and Dobby gets to clean Harry Potter sir's house."

"Fine but I won't go lower then . . . ten Galleons."

"Then Dobby gets to cook dinner and clean everything," he said firmly. "That is Dobby's final offer."

"Deal," Hermione agreed. She watched in satisfaction as the house elf disappeared to carry out his evil . . . er, good mission. "Excellent."

"Yessss," Luna agreed in a hiss. "Our plans are nearing completion."

"Luna?"

"Hermione?"

Hermione sighed. "Yes Luna."

"Do you have anything planned for this evening?"

"Not at the moment, why?"

"Can you check on Tonks when she gets back?"

"Gets back from where?"

"Where ever she's going. I don't think it will be a late night. She'll probably come back hungry. Better make sure you have chocolate ice cream. It will keep away the Indigos."

"Indigos? There's no such. . . . Whatever."

"Just make sure you have the chocolate ice cream. It's important Hermione."

"All right, Luna. I'll do it."

"And you should probably have Harry out of the flat. If you want he can come over to my place and . . . "

"No."

"Awwww."

IIIIIIIIII

"Mr. Black."

"What is it you simpering moron?" Draco barked.

"There are some men here from the corporate office," the teen's voice broke three times. "They want to talk with you."

"Send them in."

"Draco Black?" One of the men asked.

"Yes," Draco agreed.

"I'm prepared to offer you this check for fifteen thousand pounds in exchange for your signature on this document."

"What is it?"

"It's just a formality really," the man laughed. "Well?"

"I'm afraid that I'm far too distraught to deal with that right now," Draco stalled.

"Alright," the man agreed quickly. "I can respect that, you want some time to think about it. But why don't we just deal with this issue between the two of us, we don't want to involve any solicitors do we?"

"Best just to handle things quietly," Draco agreed. He smiled inwardly, this was exactly what his aunt had told him would happen. He couldn't wait to get home to tell her what happened. "I'll try to get everything handled after I go home."

"Why don't you take the rest of the day off," he suggested. "After everything that's happened to you, you deserve it."

IIIIIIIIII

"Harry?" Hermione began.

"No."

"What?"

"You want something and the answer is no, I'm comfortable and I'm not moving."

"It's not for me," Hermione sighed. "It's for Tonks."

"What's Tonks need?"

"You out of the house for a few hours according to Luna," Hermione said. The girl bit her lower lip as she waited for a reply.

"I'll be at the Cauldron," Harry offered. "Come join me for a meal when you're done."

"Thank you Harry," Hermione said softly. She kissed him on the cheek. "I really appreciate it."

Hermione threw up a quick ward to alert her when Tonks entered the building as Harry left and then did a quick double check on her ice cream supply.

A few minutes later, Hermione felt the special ward go off as Tonks entered the building. She went to the door and saw the auror looking distraught.

"Tonks! What's wrong?"

"Tim. He's. . . . We. . . . Letter. . . . Date. . . . Just friends. . . . Broke up . . . . Shoggoth. . . ."

"Oh, Tonks! Come inside. Did you eat?"

"No. After he let me know, I wasn't hungry. I guess it wasn't fair to him, we'd already ordered."

"The price of breaking up. Don't worry about it. You want some ice cream?"

"Chocolate?"

"Of course."

"Thanks Hermione. I just . . . I don't know why it hurts so much, I'd already decided to break it off myself. I just . . ."

"Come on," Hermione said gently. "We can talk about it while we empty my freezer."

"Ok."

IIIIIIIIII

"Hello Harry," Luna greeted him as he walked into the Leaky Cauldron. "What are you doing?"

"I don't know," he replied. "What's it look like I'm doing?"

"It looks like you're talking with me," Luna said promptly. "But appearances can be deceiving."

"True."

"Well?"

"Well what?"

"Are you going to come in and sit down with me while we wait for Hermione or would you rather just stand here?"

"That's a difficult question," Harry said slowly. "What do you suggest?"

"Hermione will be tied up in a few days and it'll take an hour or two to deal with Tonks so I suggest we sit down," Luna said after a moment of thought. "My shoes aren't comfortable enough to stand in for a couple weeks."

"Then let's have a seat then," Harry agreed. While not quite sure about what he'd just discussed, he'd learned that it was best not to worry about it too much when talking to Luna.

IIIIIIIIII

"I'm home Aunt Andromeda," Draco announced as he walked in. "And they've made their offer."

"Let me see it," Andromeda demanded. "Pitiful, they should really have known better."

"It's not good then?"

"It's an insult," Andromeda replied. "Let me deal with it Darling. But be sure to pay close attention, I'm going to expect you to know how to do things yourself next time. Or at least to know enough to know when they're trying to cheat you."

"Ok Aunt Andromeda," Draco agreed.

"Now then, we've got a visitor."

"Who is it?"

"Draco," Narcissa said.

"Mum . . . does this mean you've decided to leave the wolf?"

"No, I don't think I'm going to be doing that."

"Then why did you come?"

"Just wanted to be the one to tell you the news," Narcissa said with a smile. "You're going to have a new cousin."

"A new cousin then . . ." He glanced at Andromeda.

"Don't look at me," Andy said with a smirk.

"Aunt Bella? Who's the . . . no." The blood drained out of his face when he saw the smug look on his mother's face. "Going to my happy place, I'm going to my happy place."

"And your new sibling is going to have a half sibling to grow up with," Narcissa added sadistically. "Isn't that wonderful?"

"I think you broke him sister," Andy observed.

"The joys of parenthood," Narcissa said happily. "Is traumatizing one's children . . . and speaking of that."

"I'm afraid that Nymphadora is going through a rough patch at the moment," Andy sighed. "She's somehow gotten the idea that she's from the future and lost her memory."

"Isn't she living in Potter's building?"

"Why do you ask?"

"Because it seems that the Lovegood girl is spending quite a bit of time there."

"I suppose that explains things then."

"I would have hoped that a Black would have stood up better . . . then again, it is a Lovegood she's dealing with."

"True," Andy sighed. "So how's Bella taking the news that she's going to be a mother?"

"Positively glowing, she says that it's even better then sex that lasts longer then thirty seconds."

IIIIIIIIII

"What are you doing Hermione?" Harry asked. The girl was sitting on the floor surrounded by identification cards.

"I'm making a list," Hermione said cheerfully. "Of houses to empty."

"Are you checking it twice?"

"I'm cross checkin it against the names in the address books that Dobby . . . found for me," Hermione giggled.

"That's nice . . . why don't I just . . . go . . . over here then shall I?"

"Whatever you want," Hermione muttered. "Bwahahahahaha."

IIIIIIIIII

Tonks looked around the Auror's office.

"Hey, where's Tim?"

"Go check with Bones."

"Something wrong?"

"Just talk to the boss."

Tonks made the short walk up to Amelia's office and knocked on the door. "Hey boss, got a minute?"

"Come in Tonks. How'd you like to have a new partner."

"Tim and I get along professionally. So it didn't work out between us, we're still a good team."

"Yes, and I've had nothing but praise for your work. But I'm afraid that Tim has resigned."

"Resigned?"

"Yes, his significant other is moving back to its own dimension, and Tim has a job offer from the local head eldrich horror."

"Oh. Well, I guess I will need a new partner, then."

"We're having a going away party at the Leaky Cauldron . . ." Amelia trailed off.

"I'll be there."

IIIIIIIIII

"Where's Healer Brown?" The admin asked in an oily tone.

"She's got the week off," the orderly replied. "Why?"

"I thought she might like to be here when we discharge her patient," the admin explained.

"We can't! There's no way we can claim he's cured."

"Of course not. But the tests do not lie. Somewhere between all those potions, lotions, enemas, insect and repeat poisonings, shocks, drugs, and therapies -- some combination of them -- he's lost his
magic. Even if we cure him, there's nothing in the Magical world that he can do. It's time to release him, and let him try to find a new life in the Muggle world."

"Couldn't he find a job working on potions? We can't just let him go like that."

"Since that eclectic shock therapy his hands haven't stopped twitching, so no. I must say, that exposing him to Elvis Presley music right after Vaugner was probably too much of a shock. It was either that or the electricity thing. Either way, he no longer has the ability to do fine motor work with his hands. Besides, we're not letting him go so much as transferring him to a muggle high security hospital for the hopelessly insane," the admin assured him. Actually it wasn't so much transferring as dumping Snape on an isolated street corner and letting nature take its course. The admin justified it by telling himself that it would be cheaper and easier for everyone that way.

"It's such a shame."

At this point, Snape forced the gag out of his mouth again, and started screaming.

"I must admit, it will be much quieter with him gone."

"Quite."

AN: The ongoing list of people that contributed to this fic without whom, it would not have been nearly as good . . . one might go so far as to say it would be quite bad: nonjon, Ed Becerra, ausfinbar, David Wangen, neil.reynolds, Ben Russell-Gough, dogbertcarroll, hattenjc, the caitiff, AlanP, Lone Wolf, meteoricshipyards, Shawn Pickett, Morris Rague, luinlothana, Treck, Drake, David Brown, Moshehim, Arthur Hansen, Marneus Calgar, Goblin214, Chris LeBron, khadon99, Shawn Pickett, tekobaka, Freddie, Musings of Apathy, ubereng, Brian Arcis, Shalon Wood, D.J. Thorens, Fenris, Pelel, peterson9803, Andrew Joshua Talon, shinji the good sharer, and everyone on my yahoo group. They gave me scenes, ideas, and all sorts of other things. Tell me if I missed you so I can add to this list. Another thanks goes to meteoricshipyards who wrote the majority of the continuing adventures of the tentacle monster as well as several others. Anything I wrote on that sub plot was fairly minor so kudos. And still another goes to neil.reynolds who wrote a large number of scenes. Yet another goes to The Resident who was good enough to do a bit of editing and caught several of my mistakes. Still more go to Andrew Joshua Talon who wrote much (most) of the subplot with Narcissa, Remus, and Draco.

Omake: Monster vs. Monster by Steve2

It was shortly after Fred had assumed his minister position of placing his feet up on the desk while reading a few missives from his department heads that his funky first lady (as the papers had begun referring her as) walked into the office and sat down opposite him, also putting her feet on the desk.

"Fred?"

"Yeah, honey?"

"You know, I've been thinking since Hermione came by for some potion assistance the other day."

"Oh?"

"Yes. I think you being minister is all well and good, Fred, and you are certainly doing a far better job than anyone else in the job over the past century, but I miss the crazy Fred. I'm not saying to quit being Minister, but how about a little break? Just for the afternoon? Maybe we can do something… a little fun?"

Fred looked at his babe. "Bedroom fun or prank fun?"

She grinned. "How about prank fun – and if done right, it can lead to bedroom fun."

"Let me call my stand-in to mind the store." Fred got up and walked over to the wall-floo. Throwing in the powder, he yelled, "Oi, George! Busy?"

George replied, "Kinda. I've got Ginny establishing her civilian disguise and minding the store before she goes out crime fighting later tonight – provided she can find Dean that is – and I'm working on a new vat of Dork Lord spongies. You know, the ones we thought could only be used once when cleaning a person's basement floor if you know what I mean, wink, wink, nudge, nudge."

"So not busy, then, right? How'd you like to be Minister for the rest of the day? Angelina wants to pull a Job-6."

"Oooohhh, prank plus bedroom visit. Nice. Sorry, political brother of mine, but no can do. Katie is taking me out to lunch and then to a show. And who knows after that? Wink, wink, nudge, nudge, and all that."

"What's with all the winking?"

"Isn't a nudge as good as a wink to a blind bat?" said George.

"Are you talking about sex?"

"What's it like?"

"George!"

"Fred!"

Fred paused for a second and then grinned. "Good luck. It's great. And Katie is a nice girl so show her you care and take off your socks." Fred then closed the connection.

"So what do we do now, Fred? Do you have a deputy minister or some kind you can have run the office for a few hours?" wondered Angelina.

"You'd think that would be a good idea, but then some outgoing Minister cursed the position a couple centuries ago. Director Bones filled me in on that little bit of information when I'd brought up the idea of having George be my deputy minister."

"Oh? Cursed like the DADA position at school? They either end up dead at the end of the term, or sacked?"

"Worse. Turns out that the Deputy Minister has to get married to the next incoming minister. That's why Umbridge kept trying to get the position from Fudge, but rumor has it he suspected the curse included not only the next incoming minister, but the current one who gets re-elected and he wasn't taking a chance."

"And once you told George about it…"

Fred let out a sigh at not being able to invoke some nepotism like he'd wanted. "He wouldn't accept it and I told him I wouldn't be offering it to him regardless. But we did think it would be a bit of fun to swap places now and then without anyone knowing. Sort of lets us get by the whole Deputy Minister thing."

"So now what? Guess we're off for the afternoon?"

"I'm not a master prankster for nothing, sweetheart. There's ways, and then there's WAYS." His grinning increased. "Dobby!"

Pop. "Yes, mister minister Weazy?"

"Dobby, buddy, chum, compatriot, pal o'mine."

Dobby signed and reached for his elf-wallet. "How much do you want?"

"Dobby, Dobby, Dobby. Nothing so crass as money between friends I think."

"Uh-oh."

"Dobby, I'm here to make your day."

"Yous has some stinky socks you need me to clean?"

"Uh, no."

"Yous has some stinky shoes you need me to clean?"

"Uh, no."

"Yous has a stinky meeting you need to attend but want to get out of and want me to take your place using my elfin magic?"

"Uh, right-o, Dobby old chap. Stiff upper lip and all that."

"You've done this before, eh?" Angelina smirked.

"Might have, might have," Fred replied, gathering a few of his things to take on an impromptu lark.

"Dobby gets same pay," Dobby instructed.

Fred immediately replied, "Absolutely. You get to clean my office and room for two weeks straight. I'll even throw in George's laundry on top of it. And one galleon for your general rent-an-inmate fund."

"Dobby do it. Dobby take good notes for mister minister Weazy."

"Uh, no need on that, Dobby. I usually just take a snoozer in today's 1pm. Today's meeting is just an excuse for other ministers to get together and have a gripe session. Don't worry, you'll be fine. You good now?"

"Ten-four!"

"Huh?" Fred intoned.

"Dobby means yes."

"Thanks, Dobby. You're a life saver," Angelina smiled sweetly at the house-elf.

"Dobby does what he can to help his master Harry Potter sir. And if helping run the wizarding world helps his master, then Dobby is only too glad to help."

IIIIIIIIII

"Hey, Frankie, you see that?" said Spain's minister, Anthony de Cote.

France's minister, Francois Smarmvitte looked where de Cote indicated and said, "What's Fred still doing awake? The opening minutes were read just minutes ago."

"I know. He's usually asleep by now" de Cote replied.

"I wonder if he knows something about today's agenda that I don't," Smarmvitte wondered.

"What's up, guys?" Poland's minister, Anna Aleksy put in.

Smarmvitte returned, "It's Fred. He's not sleeping. Something's up."

Germany's minister, Hans "Gunther" Toody stood up to address his collegues and peers (even Fred). "Thank you for allowing me to speak first today, my friends. I am thankful that something is going my way for once."

"Sup, Hans? Missus catch you with your mistress again?" de Cote jabbed lightly, getting a chuckle out of Toody.

Smarmvitte leaned to the Belgium minister, Julien Janssens and whispered, "Aren't they sisters?"

"Shush, you," he smiled back with a slight nod to indicate they were

indeed sisters.

Fred… er, Dobby meanwhile was going over the next day's chore list. Darn mister minister Weazy's socks. Check. Darn mister minister Weazy's brother's socks. Check. Rent evil bad former master and make him use tongue to clean bathroom. Check.

Fred/Dobby was not really paying attention to Toody as he continued to rant about the latest thing to hit his office. "…and so with our crack team of animal wranglers unable to do anything about these free roaming chimeras wandering the countryside and laying waste to whatever they feel like, I'm not sure what to do. Fred? You seem like

you want to say something. Your thoughts?"

Dobby cleared his through and brought his voice down an octave or two like he'd done before and said, "Oh, uh… Chimeras. Right. Um, well, I've got an idea. See, when Dob… er Weazy was roaming the world for a year…"

"Weazy?" Aleksy said aloud. "Doberman Weazy? Wasn't he that Aussie fellow that went to prison for breach of magical containment with a muggle beach? Something about how he made all their swimsuits disappear and they never noticed?"

"Yeah," replied de Cote, "I heard about that. Got pardoned or something by Bruce … I forget his last name. You know, the Australian minister. Anyway, Fred must be related to him."

"I heard about that," inserted Smarmvitte. "Chap had a real knack for containing magic and creatures. Then they stuck him with a desk job. Went mental."

"Maybe Fred's onto something here," Toody supposed.

All eyes pointed back to Fred who had been watching the byplay of the other ministers with rapt attention. "Uh, right. Well, I think what we need is to combat these monsters with our own monsters. Maybe we could have a monster rally.

"Bring in more monsters?" muttered Toody. "Isn't that counterproductive to what we're trying to achieve, Fred?"

Dobby clarified, "Not real monsters. But Monster Trucks. Even bring in, say… Bigfoot."

"The Sasquatch family's been spotted again? Do we need to call in the Obliviators?" asked Janssens.

Dobby again clarified, "No, no, not them. Bigfoot. The monster truck known as Bigfoot."

"Monster trucks?" Hans Toody raised an eyebrow in confusion. "You mean those cute little horseless carriages the muggles travel in?"

"Bigger. Bigfoot. It's a 4x4's 4x4. It typically uses 66x43x25 Flotation Tires, but has been known to use Firestone's 120x48x68 tires."

de Cote liked his lips. "Firestone? Doesn't he run a tavern in Berlin?"

"I've eaten there. Good schnitzel," said Smarmvitte.

Dobby continued, "The Bigfoot racing trucks use a 572 Cubic Inch Ford engine, which puts out between 1200 and 1500 horsepower, and 1100 to 1300 foot/pounds of torque."

Toody was again confused. "Horses? What do they have to do with anything?"

"Er… centaurpower."

Toody's frown disappeared. "Oh. I get it now."

"Bigfoot even runs a Ford hemi for certain types of events, which can put out even more hor… centaur power."

All the ministers were looking at "Fred" now with renewed appreciation. He may be the youngest minister they had ever seen, but he was certainly going on with enthusiasm about his monster truck

idea. It was easy to do since Dobby was happily recalling the time he spent in the colonies a couple years ago, when he'd actually gotten turned around one day and saw the biggest lorry he'd ever seen.

"Now, Bigfoot uses methanol racing fuel which gets approximately 2-3 gallons per 250-foot run. Methanol is a cooler burning fuel, thus keeping the engine cooler, so there's little chance of it

overheating."

"Is methanol similar to Firewhisky?" questioned Aleksy.

"Close enough," Dobby replied simply.

"This Bigfoot seems like a big enough fellow and all," started Toody, "but how much does it cost to purchase this monster? We're not made of money like Fudge was you know."

"When I saw the Bigfoot, I asked that very question. While there are many factors involved with its pricing such as parts and human labor to assemble it, a rough estimate is 10,000 galleons. Less if we do

the manufacturing and assembling ourselves. Or have a house elf do it by the name of Dobby since he knows as much as anyone here about what Bigfoot is."

"And you think this different version of Bigfoot could help us wrangle in our monsters?"

"Dob… er, I don't see why not. Once Bigfoot raises the gear ratio, it can go up to 150 kph, or 80 miles per hour."

"What's miles per hour mean?" said de Cote.

Dobby looked at the man. "It's fast. Very, very fast. And it can catch other monsters."

Toody smiled at the other ministers around the table. "This sounds very promising. But we need to see a trial of this first before I commit any of my people's funds on this."

IIIIIIIIII

"Bwahahahahahahahahahahahahah!" Voldemort chuckled in his lair yet again. His plan would work. It couldn't fail, and best of all, he wouldn't lose face in front of his men. This would make him feared again, like it was meant to be. The Dark Lord Jeremy would pay, oh yes he would. Take his title, would he?

"Wormtongue! It's time to instigate my newest plan! Alert the men! It's time to make that usurper pay!"

"Yes, master."

"Wormtongue, what have I said about your accent!"

"More lisping?"

"Correct! Again!"

"Yeth, mahsterr…."

"Better. Crucio!"

"Aaack!"

"That Ron Jeremy! He will rue the day he crossed me," Voldemort again cackled like the madman he was.

Little did Voldemort know that due to Wormtongue's new lisping, his plan would take an additional week to carry out as the men didn't initially understand what he was saying any of the times he told them of the "mahster plan".

IIIIIIIIII

A week later, two of Germany's finest from the Bundesamt für Magie sat in a truck, its engine idling, waiting for their prey. The truck's cab sat several meters off the ground. What those wild and crazy muggles won't think of next, Yortuk Festrunk thought.

"I don't like this assignment, Yortuk," said his brother, Georg Festrunk.

"Why not? It's easy. All we have to do is wait and then chase. Easy as pie."

"No foxes."

"Heh-heh, you're always going on about our cousins in the United States. Give it up already."

"You know we could always use this truck to land some foxes."

"No."

Just then: "Breaker, breaker, we got a smokey sighting. Come on!" blurted the ingenious device under the dash.

Yortuk raised the FFC (Faceless Floo Connection) -thingy to his mouth, pressed the button and replied, "We copy that. Smokey in sight. Time to put the pedal to the metal."

"That's a big 10-4," squawked the response.

Georg revved the engine twice to get the attention of the two chimeras that were walking towards a creek for a quick drink of water.

"Grunt-grunt-grunt," went the first creature which was Chimera speak for: "What the heck is that thing?"

"Grint-grunt-grent," came the response which stood for: "I don't know what the heck that thing is, but whatever it is, don't put your lips on it."

With a blast of speed brought on by the inexperienced but no less enthused brothers, the truck accelerated towards the two monsters. They attempted to flee, one to the left and the other to the right,

but the truck quickly ran over each one. It looked worse than it was, but eventually each chimera was caught in the front wheel wells.

"Grunt-grunt-grunt-grint," complained the first chimera caught which translated meant: "Well here's another fine mess you've gotten us into. Hrmph!"

"Grint," translated: "Sorry, Ollie."

Yortuk looked at his brother behind the wheel and said, "Both are contained. Head home and let's hose them out and into a pen."

"Then let's take the truck out and cruise for some foxy witches."

"No," Yortuk said immediately.

"C'mon, nobody's going to notice if we take it out for one night."

"No."

"What's the worst that can happen?" said Georg.

"We'll get fired."

"C'mon! It's the weekend."

"No."

"I'll drive," suggested Georg.

"Okay."

IIIIIIIIII

Ding-dong!

The large door was opened by a scantily clad woman. This thought was firmly impressed on the mind of the young man carrying dozens of large flat boxes. Behind him, two other men, boys really, were carrying similar looking boxes. They all wore similar outfits.

"Yes? Can I help you?" Gretchen asked, her wand close by tied to a little string attached to her bra. One quick jerk from behind her back and her bra would fly off as her wand came free. That usually

served to stun any older Death Eaters for a moment before she got off her shot.

"Glurk. I mean, pizza delivery." The pizza delivery man's eyes never left Gretchen. Or more accurately, never left her chest. She smirked. It was nice to have ones assets noticed. The master was the only

other one to notice her for what she had to offer.

"What's going on, Gretchen?" Ron asked, walking up to see who was at the door.

"Some young men are delivering pizzas, master."

"That looks like quite a few pizzas, guys."

"Uh, yes sir. One hundred pies. An assortment of everything we have."

"You guys got the right address?"

"Yes sir. One hundred pies ordered to this address by V… er," he put the pizzas down on the step and pulled out the delivery sheet. "Mort. Yeah, one V. D. Mort. You him?"

"'Fraid not, guys. That's just some wanker who calls himself a dork lord."

"So just to make it clear, you didn't order these?"

"Nope. But since the girls and I were just talking about dinner, why don't we buy them off you anyway? Saves us from making anything else. Gretchen, can you pay the man? You guys can just put the pizzas in here."

As the other two pizza delivery guys delivered their load and went back for more, Gretchen asked the young man who had rang the door bell, "How much?"

Shaking his head to get non-perverted thoughts back in there, he looked at the delivery sheet and said, "Um, even with the volume discount, it's still 750 pounds."

Gretchen looked in her purse, pushing things to either side to get an idea of how much money she actually had. "Hmmm, that's more money than I have right now. How about we work something else out?" she suggested sweetly.

The pizza delivery guy licked his lips, still having difficulty concentrating on his job like he should. "Like what?"

Gretchen smiled demurely at him and said, "You ever take a bath with 5 beautiful, nubile women before?'

"Glurk."

"Jenny? Tina? Josie, Patricia, Jasmine. This here is…"

"Glurk… Simon. I'm Simon."

"Simon," Gretchen said as she introduced him to the other girls. "Such a nice name. Simon, these girls are here tonight for their initiation into our little club. Girls, this is Simon. A wonderful young man who hasn't been in a bathtub with several girls at the same time. Can we change this for him?"

"I don't see why not," Tina replied. "It sounds like something the master would want us to do."

Jasmine concurred. "That it does."

"You can keep up with them, can't you, Simon?" Gretchen asked.

"Glurk! Ummm, guys! Tell Mr. Black I'll be back later! And tell him to charge this order to my account."

"But, Simon, you drove!" said one of the other pizza delivery guys.

"Here's the keys! Get back to the restaurant!"

"You sure?" asked the third pizza delivery guy. "How are you going to get home?"

"Who says I care about going home? This is going to be the best night of my life. Ever."

IIIIIIIIII

Dear V.D.

This is just a little thank you for the pizzas last night. The girls and I were just talking about what to have for dinner when your handy delivery service brought forth some great tasting food. Talk about good timing. Speaking of timing, this letter is set to explode 10 seconds after you open it. Thanks again for the pizza! I'll return the favor some day!

Sincerely,

The REAL DARK LORD

Ron Jeremy : )

As Voldemort got to the end, the letter suddenly glowed white and exploded a black powder all over his face and hands. Copy toner. He hated that taste. It never came out of anything. Blast that Ron Jeremy!

"Grrrrr. Wormtongue!"