Chapter 6: Dolores Umbridge and Cornelius Fudge

It all started with the lobby in the ministry of magic, a scowling old lady, and a crotchety old cat.

"No, Mr. Tibbles! No piddling in the fountain!" cried the old lady, grabbing Mr. Tibbles from the fountain and placing him on the cold floor. Mr. Tibbles was not amused.

Meanwhile, from his post at watch, George sniggered with glee. He was lucky to have won the game that they'd decided on. He REALLY didn't want to be Polyjuice-d into an old lady. Or have to hold Crookshanks for more than two seconds. The old lady flipped him off (attracting a few odd looks) and went about her way. George went back to his (completely disgusting) Daily Prophetand hiding behind a rather fake and large Christmas tree.

Just as Fred was adjusting his dress (HOUSECOAT) and walking to some nearby stairs, he caught a bit of luck (sounds like it's a disease, doesn't it? ...can't blame you for thinking that, really). There were two ripe for the picking candidates for the magic mistletoe's next victi...er...participants standing before the very same stair that he aimed to use.

"Do you really think I could do it, Cornelius?" the (technically) female being asked. She adjusted her revoltingly pink dress.

"Better than the other crackpots trying to get in, I dare say, Dolores." he responded curtly, and they both shared a stinted laugh. Ruddy uptight pricks. Honestly; how insufferable could they get? Oh, sorry; forgot for a minute there. Great (sarcasm). Fred had enough of it, finally, after listening to their almost (haha, no) witty banter, and obsessive tastes. Mistletoe was going to be used quickly, as to save his brain cells from destruction.

"What's that little thing?" asked Umbridge, pointing at the writhing plant above them. Fudge didn't need to remind her, however, as Umridge seemed to remember (Christmas miracle, that was). So swept Fudge up into a disgusting...activity generally refered to as 'snogging.'

Umbridge's P.O.V.

I'm locked in a romantic embrace with the object of my affections! I think I might've read that somewhere, but...mmm...literary analysis and listing of sources must come at a later point. SNOGGY TIME!

Fudge's P.O.V.

I wonder if having a romantic entanglement is one of the 'no-no's' in the ministry handbook. Nah, couldn't be...and anyways, I'll just blame it on her! And get some action out of the bargain! I'm a genius, yes, thank you...mmm...action.

No one's P.O.V.

"No. Just no. That is it! I refuse to watch disgusting couples snog ANY LONGER! I resign." Fred cried, throwing down Crookshanks (who let out a squeal of protest) and summoning back the mistletoe. He didn't even bother with the picture; no amount of blackmail money could justify this. That's when the couple noticed they were being watched, Fred left in a huff with Crookshanks trailing indignantly after him, and George sniggered in the corner having gotten the blackmail material. Having a back-up camera was ruddy brilliant.