Title: Special Report
Author: florahart
Words: 1600
Characters: Oh so many implied (Weasleys, Shacklebolt, Prewett, Rookwood, Moody, Potter, Longbottom, Crouch...)
Rating: R
Warnings: Possible implications of things like infidelity and incest
Themes/kinks chosen: Kink: Glory hole, Holiday location: Dept of MLE Christmas Party
Author's notes: ceria asked for the departmental party and any combination of B. Weasley, C. Weasley, G. Prewett, Rookwood, Crouch Jr, Macnair, Shacklebolt, Longbottom, with a glory hole. I hope this will suffice. Oh, and since there is deliberate formatting within the story that involves font color, if the layout on which you are reading is reddish, you may want to add a format=light at the end of the URL.

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Special Report

Special Report to the Daily Prophet
By Lavinia Wortsprout

Submitted for Sunday's edition, 24 December, 1999

Returned for major editorial revision; honestly, Lavinia, this is a family newspaper! --Ed.

It is a fact widely known, if not widely acknowledged, that the Aurors and Hit Wizards are a kinky wild lot. It makes sense, if one stops to consider the issue; these are people who have chosen to spend their working lives facing danger, and there is a good chance that this is because they tend toward thrill-seeking. They are, of course, not the only ones; there are any number of dangerous options ranging from A to Z available to the lusty wizard: Acromantula breeder, broom test pilot, curse breaker, dragon handler… the list goes on.

Needless to say, such a deviant bunch this is hardly the impression we want to give in an essay on our law enforcement, Lavinia! Let's choose a different word, shall we? would have developed a number of traditions the rest of us might find surprising, or even shocking.

Take, for instance, the annual MLE Christmas party. How shocking can a Christmas party be? I'll read on, but I doubt any gift exchange tradition they might have would be something one might describe as 'shocking.'

Most of us attend holiday parties at which gifts are exchanged, at which there's merriment and plenty to eat, at which there is passing around of all manner of treats and goodies. We therefore are not astonished to learn the same is true of various departments within the Ministry. We find it pleasant to consider how our leaders and our protectors are much as we ourselves. Not shocked yet, Lavinia.

But then consider more closely the nature of the revelry.

Consider that every year, in the back of the room, there is a special chamber, of sorts, a chamber in which a specific and closeted form of celebration goes on, celebration which is for members only. Oh, for God's sake, Lavinia. This is overly dramatic. What's next, secret Christmas cabals?

In this room, the MLE and invited guests can, indeed, let it all hang out.

The tradition started, the story goes, because of a simple Christmas carol. A standard and upright one, at that. The men--and in those days, the MLE was very much all men--had gathered about the piano to lift their voices in song. They'd run through a number of carols, and, as luck would have it, a number of bottles of good rum, when someone suggested a rousing rendition of Angles We Have Heard On High. A number of the men stumbled over the words, and the drunken ears of one man apparently heard something new. "Eureka!" he shouted--evidently, this was quite slurred; no one later recalled hearing the exact word--and he stumbled off into the loo. Good heavens, Lavinia. You're calling them drunken deviants. This is virtually unprintable. Twenty minutes later he returned, beckoning all and sundry to follow him back into his newly-created space.Yawn.

He'd increased the space a great deal, of course, to allow for as many members as wished to join in, and when everyone was settled into place, he lifted the curtain he'd placed over his creation.

At first, no one was impressed. What was there to like about a short wall placed three feet inside the real one? An unfinished wooden one, at that? Lavinia… All right, even if I thought this were a story at all, I would suggest this paragraph needs significant work. For one thing, that last isn't exactly a question, so there's a grammar issue; for another, the paragraph seems quite incomplete. You state that at first, no one was impressed, which suggests a subsequent contradiction, but that's left hanging. I assume you will return to it, but I'd suggest you might offer some evidence herein as to the nature of the contradiction.

And then, our unnamed hero waved his wand, and three large knotholes fell forward out of the surface as glittering words appeared imprinted on the surface: GLORY HOLE-ALUJAH! Oh, fuck me, Lavinia. No, that wasn't an improper suggestion that should be taken as harassment. We cannot print--fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. At the same time, cheerful wreaths came up around the holes in green and white, with happy red ribbons.

The ensuing chaos was great. For one thing, it wasn't until later that anyone thought to question whose mouths (and occasionally arses) were waiting behind the wall for their eager cocks, which was just tall enough that no one might look through. For another, St. Mungo's shows an unexplained influx of wizards with odd bruises and bite-marks; apparently there was a scuffle to queue up for the holes.Consider this entire paragraph struck out.

Eventually, the party ended (the record shows there was no official MLE activity from the evening of the party, 24 December that year, until 27 December at 2:15 in the afternoon. It stretches credulity to suppose there were no crimes during a nearly three-day stretch), and a tradition was born which continues to this day. And this one.

Just this past week-end, yours truly wangled an invitation to this year's event. Bollocks! I sent you on assignment to--oh, hell. This was what you meant by a stakeout, isn't it? Your expense report is being reviewed, let me tell you.

The wall itself is fundamentally unchanged. Each year, they get it out of storage and unshrink it, and while the glitter of the letters is a bit scraped and faded, and while certain small additions have been made over time, one can practically smell the history about it. One can certainly smell the come. I just. I'm speechless. No longer do they haul criminals from the depths of their Unspoken holding cells to work off a portion of their sentences on their knees, though it's unclear when, exactly, that aspect of the tradition was stopped. I give up. Consider the entire article struck out. I shan't comment any further. What record there is suggests this change is recent; or, at the least, that there are recent exceptions to the new practice of drawing straws for the privilege of kneeling behind the barrier and opening one's lips on unknown cocks. So I lied. Merlin. What on earth could you possibly have for evidence? I suppose for this statement you have a source you call Deep Throat? Don't answer that. Certainly the graffiti on the wall indicates that if the men fucking those hidden lips and tongues knew whereof they wrote, a number of famous Death Eaters have done time there. One such scratched-in note, for instance, reads G. Prewett, A. Rookwood, 1978, gagged him for audience of 31.

Photographs of Mr Prewett from that era suggest this must have been quite something to see. This reporter found herself, on consideration of it, jealous of the 31 and squirming in her chair. A few minutes later she leaped at the chance to give the wall a whirl. Her experience was... stunning; she had no idea anyone's tongue was quite that flexible. Too. Much. Information.

However, other notes from the same era (F. Longbottom, K. Shacklebolt Shit. Just, shit. Min.i.ster. Even if we could clean the rest of this up… 1980, or A. Moody, G. Prewett, 1979) suggest there were already Aurors and others volunteering to offer up their services even whilst others (F. Longbottom, B. Crouch Jr, 1980) imply the old system was still in place.

From just last year, there are a number of familiar names (Shacklebolt (still). Weasley (considerably more than one). Potter (seven times, both first and second position) I hold my head in my hands, moaning; if I am forced into early retirement due to palpitations, I will name you as responsible.) My own first entry, for the record, says L. Wortsprout, B. Weasley, 1999, brought me off with his tongue then again with his cock to the applause of nearly forty That's it. I'm not reading the rest. Please notify St. Mungo's of my incipient arrival.

And let me just note, for the record, that the Minister has a lovely, lovely cock. . . . .

In closing, it is worth noting that a number of improvements have been made in the last three years alone. A discreet 'W' logo in the corner, for instance, explains the remarkable catching charm that prevents one from crumpling to the floor upon going light-headed when one has just experienced a particularly shattering orgasm--I give this innovation a ten out of ten stars, by the way--and just this year, the space has been adjusted to allow one of the hidden cocksuckers to be buggered even as he sucks his customer.

All in all, the situation is astonishing and eye-opening. Our law enforcement officials, contrary to their public face, are rowdy, kinky, loud, twisted, and by and large too hot to live. It remains to be seen whether public awareness of their tendencies improves public relations or leaves our upstanding populace so horrified the Ministry re-organizes the entire place.

Either way, one wonders what other behind-closed-doors celebrations and traditions our leaders might have. This reporter believes the people have the right to know.

And the right to get a glimpse of that amazing cock.

Trust me.

Lavinia: after you revise this story (I suggest a rewrite from scratch, in which the subjects are lambs and puppies and the content involves being cute and generally blinking big soft eyes), please see me in my office. If I'm not at my desk, I'll be in the back room. --Ed.