Sweet and Sour

Sweet and Sour

"Fudge?" asked Mrs Weasley in disbelief. "Fudge and, and Lucius?" Mr Weasley nodded and grinned. His wife began to giggle slightly. Ron and Harry stared at him from across the breakfast table. They were the only ones awake so early, having decided to make the most of the fine summer weather and have a Quidditch practice. Now they both sat speechless, goggling at Mr Weasley.

"How do you know, dad?" asked Ron when he had recovered the power of speech.

"Well," replied Mr Weasley, who was relishing in the sudden attention, "It's obvious really. Lucius Malfoy has always had Fudge under his thumb, but I know Fudge; it would take more than a few sackfulls of galleons to get that level of control over the minister. Plus, Anderson from the Werewolf Registry Office walked in on them in a broom cupboard last week. At it like rabbits." Mr Weasley illustrated his point by making quick rubbing motions with his fingers. Harry and Ron's eyes widened, and all thoughts of Quidditch were swiftly forgotten.

"Wow," said Harry, "I wish I was going to the Ministry today." Mr Weasley's eyes twinkled in a Dumbledore-esque fashion.

"That can be arranged. You boys can come along today if you want. I'll just say it's the muggle 'Bring your youngest son and his best friend to work' day. Anyway, no one'll notice. That is, if Molly agrees. Molly?" Mr Weasley got no reply; his wife's eyes were glazed and she kept muttering "Fudge and Malfoy, who'd have thought it,' under her breath. Mr Weasley shrugged and got his Floo cloak from the hat-stand.

*

Mr Weasley had to attend a monthly meeting of inter-departmental representatives that day, so he took Harry and Ron along with him. The meeting room was dark, lit by a single chandelier suspended in mid air above the long thin table that filled most of the room, flanked by multiple plush-backed chairs. In the centre of one of the long, thin sides of the table sat Cornelius Fudge, Minister for Magic. On his right was Lucius Malfoy, and to his left sat a wizened old warlock that Harry did not recognise. No one asked what Harry and Ron were doing there, so neither offered any explanation.

The meeting was long and boring, but throughout it both Lucius and Fudge were smiling, Lucius with a lazy grin and Fudge with a slightly hungry look in his eyes. During a particularly dull speech on Fungleweed Infestations in Hogsmeade, Harry, pretending he had dropped something and slipped under the table. Right in front of his eyes stood, or rather sat, all the evidence he needed to confirm his suspicions. Lucius' left hand was caressing Fudge's right knee, whilst the minister's right hand was nestled snugly in Lucius' groin. He heard a shuffling, panicked, and had to restrain the wave of laughter that had swept over him as he scrambled back into his seat, nudging Ron and indicating towards Fudge's legs. Ron slipped down, on the pretence of tying a shoelace, and saw the same as Harry had.

Eventually Fudge adjourned the meeting. "Thank you all for coming. I'll see everyone at the next meeting. Oh, and Lucius, could you remain behind for a while. We need to discuss our, em, the, well, the budget schedules."

"More like their bonking schedule," whispered Ron to Harry as they left the meeting.

*

"You wanted to...see me, Minister?" asked Lucius, a slight spark of what can only be described as a seductive tone filtering through into his usual cold voice. Fudge beamed around the room, as if he was smiling to a hundred people, when in fact only he and Lucius were there.

"Yes, Mr Malfoy," replied Fudge, affecting a formal tone, "I wanted to discuss the quality of the fastenings on those fine robes of yours. They look very expensive. What if they were to be torn of in a... fit of passion?" Unable to contain himself and longer, Fudge leapt at Lucius, ripping off the younger man's robes in the way he had described. Lucius felt a chill run through his body. He decided to play on this.

"Goodness me, Minister," he said, exaggerating his next shiver. "It is cold in here. Maybe we need a little more... warmth." He snapped his fingers and they were suddenly encircled by a ring of fire. The rest of the room faded into darkness, and what seemed to be a spotlight cast a beam onto the floor. Fudge, (this being his favourite 'game'), stepped into the spotlight and burst into song.

"Luuuu-c-i-uuuuuus,

How I love Luuuu-c-i-uuuuuus.

He fills me with pleasuuuuuuure,

He's my greatest treasuuuuuuure."

Lucius blushed and walked over to Fudge, who moved away slightly. They began pacing around in a circle, facing each other, like animals about to fight. This continued until Fudge broke, and ran to Lucius, knocking him to the ground in a most undignified way. Lucius ran his fingers through Fudge's hair, as Fudge grabbed a handful of his long blond locks and kissed him passionately. They only broke off when Fudge needed to breathe. He was, after all, far older than Lucius.

It was a long night, but by no means lonely. The ring of fire kept them both warm without the need for any clothing, something that they both enjoyed going without. As the sun began to rise, Fudge found himself exhausted. He was no longer the sprightly nymphomaniac of yesteryear. He was an old man now, and could hardly keep up with Lucius' enormous sex drive. By Merlin, that man wanted it all night every night. Fudge knew he would have to consider breaking it off soon. He really really enjoyed their early-morning romps, but as the Minister of Magic he was sure he could spend his time more usefully. Plus, his sore back was playing up again.

*

The summer was drawing to a close, and Harry (who had been staying with the Weasleys) was not looking forward to going back to school. Anderson's 'discovery' had been the only real topic of conversation, and Harry knew he would miss Arthur's daily reports on the Fudge/Malfoy situation. This was generally followed, mostly during dinner, by speculation. The questions on everyone's lips were 'Does Narcissa know?' and 'Why doesn't anyone else know?' Apparently, Anderson (who seemed to dedicate most of his working day to tailing the minister) had chosen to keep the news quiet for as long as possible, proclaiming that people would know soon enough." As it turned out, they would indeed.

It was a fine and sunny day, the morning of the last Monday of Harry's summer. He woke early as usual, ignoring Ron's muffled snorts and sleep-talking comments about 'Bilberry pies and shoehorns'. He pulled on an old Quidditch jumper, a pair of jeans and some trainers he had picked up the last time he had been to muggle London. Slowly and sleepily, he made his way downstairs, grabbing a plate of toast as he entered the kitchen and pausing to look at the front cover of the Prophet. What he saw caused him to drop the toast in amazement. There, in front of him, on the very first page were some photographs, the largest of which was showing the very same thing that he had seen when he had crouched beneath the table in Fudge's meeting. And, being a wizarding photograph, it was moving, not omitting any of the gruesome details of their fondling. Above it were pictures of Fudge and Lucius, together and separately, some of which were obviously well researched, almost up to espionage quality. Harry glanced towards the name of the reporter. Anderson. That sounded familiar. It was the man that Mr Weasley had talked about. The penny finally dropped. So that was why Anderson had all the updates. And that was who had made the shuffling noise when he had ducked under the table. Anderson had been there with a camera.

'Suddenly this all makes sense,' though Harry. 'Wait a minute. No it doesn't. Why the hell would Malfoy go out with Fudge?' Then another thought, a far worse one popped into his mind out of nowhere. 'Malfoy could do so much better.' He had to bang his head against the kitchen table to get rid of the awful mental images his sick, overactive imagination had conjured up.

*

"Thank God you're here, Lucius," said Fudge, rather worriedly, as Lucius entered his office. "Have you seen the front page of the Prophet?" Lucius grimaced.

"How else would I have ended up with rancid fruit in my hair?" he asked, somewhat rhetorically. Both men looked at each other for a while, and then began to hatch a plan.

As they left the Ministry of Magic, they were pounced upon by hordes of reporters.

"Is there any truth in the rumours that have been published this morning?"

"What do you have to say on behalf of the gay community?"

"How has this relationship affected how the country is being run?"

Lucius' feigned smile soon melted into a snarl, and he replied in a sharp tone.

"Of course there is truth in the rumours, you've seen pictures of him fondling me, I've never met the gay community and so have no idea what to say on their behalf, and as for the running of the country, he's never done it better."

"Can't you vultures leave the man I love alone?" asked Fudge in his most camp voice (which was admittedly more camp than a row of tents in a caravan park). They left the building quickly by the nearest fireplace, and ended up in Malfoy Manor. Of course, in all the panic, Lucius hadn't forgotten to ask for the bedroom...