Plaisir à deux
"Oh God, Minerva!"
Breathless, Alastor Moody slumped back in his chair. Sweat ran down his temples. True, she had warned him – but this had exceeded his wildest expectations. Minerva, of all women! He reached for his belt.
"How do you do it?"
Minerva dabbed the corners of her mouth and rose, shrugging.
"Aunt Lakshmi taught me. She was old-fashioned that way. Always said that a woman should be able to spice up a man's life now and then."
She reached for the ladle in the white tureen.
"Now, another helping of the Mutton Vindaloo, or shall we proceed to dessert?"
On Duty in the Department of Mysteries
Alastor Moody's wand slashed through the darkness and sent a flash of red light at whatever had just jumped out of the ventilation shaft.
The creature grew larger. A hand appeared, and a second later Alastor's spell dangled from the tip of a wand like a luminescent Flobberworm.
"You are so predictable." Minerva McGonagall's voice betrayed the shape of her eyebrows as she gave her wand a gentle twirl and let it swallow the remains of the spell.
"Sorry 'bout that," Alastor growled. "Could've been Pettigrew."
"How very gallant."
It was the beginning of a pleasantly uneventful shift.