In this issue. . .

“Albus, you must do something,” Professor McGonagall insisted firmly, sliding into the chair opposite his massive desk. “I have just returned from Hogsmeade, and beyond the gates I passed no less than fifty screaming women and several men, as well. I wanted to Obliviate the lot.”

“Now, Minerva,” Albus responded calmly. “You know such inconveniences are to be expected, especially after all of the recent publicity.”

“Yes, Albus. I do understand; however,” she stood and upended her hold-all on the desktop. “I am not Sirius Black’s personal messenger.”

When the contents of her bag spilled onto the desk, a rainbow array of sickeningly scented notes, cards and suspiciously thick envelopes skittered across the top. Several danced about above the pile, the flaps and seals wrinkling in frustration, trying to spit out the enchanted words they contained.

“We will place them with the others.” Dumbledore nodded.

“How many has he received?” Minerva asked quickly.

“To date, including today’s owlpost, he has received some 8000 letters,” Dumbledore replied sunnily.

“I believe some of these are from Muggles.” Minerva continued, referring to the pile on Dumbledore’s desk. “Would you care to speculate on how Muggles are pinpointing our unplottable school? Hogwarts is difficult enough to find on purpose.”

“Minerva,” again he tried to pacify her. She opened her mouth to forestall his reassurances, but the office door slammed open with stunning force and silenced her.

“Headmaster,” Snape stalked in, a dark scowl on his face. “When will Black be returning to his post?”

“Good Afternoon, Severus,” Dumbledore greeted, then attempted to placate them both. “I understand the stress that has been placed upon all of you. No one expected the female students in this school to riot outside Sirius’ classroom after the magazine’s release, or else we would have taken the necessary precautions.”

“When will Black be returning to his post?” Snape persisted darkly, his voice betraying his frustration.

“Sirius Black will be returning to his position, which I might add is not ‘the Space Monkey’, in this school when the furor dies.” Dumbledore’s tone indicated arguing would be futile.

“That will be the day Lupin’s magazine is distributed,” came Snape’s bitter reply. “Then we will all be forced to substitute teach in Defense Against the Dark Arts until he is able to return. Luckily, by then the term will be over and there will be no students in residence.”

“Severus, you shouldn’t complain about the Dark Arts. For years, we’ve been hearing that you’re a master of them.” Minerva insinuated shamelessly.

Snape gave her a hard glare in return, but didn’t deny her assertion.

“Actually, Severus,” Dumbledore interrupted the exchange. “Because we’ve had to rearrange class schedules due to Sirius’ absence, the school governors have decided to close the school just briefly over the summer break. Classes will begin again in July.”

“Outrageous!” Snape returned brusquely, clearly angered by the revelation. Before he could begin his diatribe, Minerva interrupted.

“If you need a longer vacation, you could just sign the publishing contract, Severus,” Minerva suggested wickedly. “Maybe then . . .”

Snape interrupted, “Maybe then, I could be subjected to the same ridiculous displays as Black? I have no desire to find half of Ravenclaw unclothed and hidden in my shower, my classroom or my storage cupboard.”

“You would prefer Hufflepuff, then?” Minerva taunted lightly.

Snape refused to dignify that question with a response. Hufflepuff indeed! He continued as if uninterrupted, “Nor do I desire to find groups of students congregating in the Astronomy Tower watching a nude, life-sized snapshot of my domestic talents.”

“Slytherin, then? Perhaps not,” Minerva wheedled slyly. “Although, I know you would prefer finding a certain know-it-all Gryffindor.”

Snape raised a supercilious eyebrow in her direction and did his best to ignore her single mindedness. Instead of responding to her conversational barbs he again addressed Dumbledore. “I refuse to be baited or coerced into this situation.”

Minerva looked him up and down, a wicked light in her eyes. “What about coaxed, if I ask nicely?”

Snape scoffed at her persistence. “Well, if you ask nicely. . . My answer would have to be definitely not!”

“How about if Hermione Granger asked nicely?” Minerva taunted further.

Snape’s jaw tightened at Minerva’s prodding.

She gleefully noted the disparate light in his eyes. Yes, a visit from Hermione Granger would be just the thing.

* * * * * * * * * * *

Luna waved a greeting to Professor McGonagall and walked quickly to her side. “Hermione has returned.”

“Excellent,” Minerva responded. “She’s here to do Lupin’s interview?”

“Yes, although we practically had to curse her to get her back.” Luna added. “She was very upset after that interview with Sirius went so, well . . .uh” Luna’s voiced died away.

“Horrifyingly right,” Minerva immediately cut in, amusement evident in her voice.

“Well, yes actually.” Luna burst out laughing.

“After we read it, Rolanda and I scolded him for his naughtiness. I believe Sybill congratulated him. We even informed him that he needed a sound spanking for his impertinence,” Minerva relayed with great amusement.

“Really? So, what did he say?” Luna asked curiously.

“He said he was free on Sunday afternoon.” Minerva crowed delightedly. “He really is a naughty boy.”

Luna readily joined in the laughter. It took several minutes for them to regain the ability to converse normally.

“How did Hermione receive employment with your magazine? Normally she is more than capable, but in this instance she appears to be frighteningly out of her depth.” Minerva asked curiously.

“Actually, Ginny Weasley recommended her,” Luna explained. “It seems that Hermione has been going through a bit of a rough patch lately; divorced from Oliver Wood, left destitute and homeless. She was desperately in need of this job, and we were in need of a trustworthy employee who could perform autonomously and accomplish the work.”

“Why did she ever marry Oliver Wood?” Minerva wondered aloud. “Two, more dissimilar people I could not imagine.”

“According to Ginny, Hermione married him on the rebound,” Luna continued at length. “Apparently, Hermione realized she had made a mistake before the ink was even dry on the marriage license. But, to her credit, she tried to make it work.”

Companionable silence erupted before the conversation began to flow again.

“You know what we need to do?” Luna stared intently at Minerva’s face. “Find an excuse to send Hermione to the dungeons.”

“That’s easy enough,” Minerva responded pleasantly, giving Luna a conspiratorial wink.

“Is it? How?”

* * * * * * * * * * *

“Miss Granger!” Professor McGonagall called out as she hurried down the Grand Staircase.

“Good evening, Professor,” Hermione returned. “Is there something wrong?”

“I have an urgent message for Professor Snape. Would you be able to deliver it to him in the dungeons?” Minerva huffed from the exertion of her rapid descent.

Hermione’s eyes widened. Her lips formed a perfect ‘O’ in shock, and Minerva saw her mind attempting to work out an inarguable refusal.

“Thank you, Miss Granger.” Minerva didn’t even give her time to refuse before she spun deftly on her heel and strode quickly up the staircase.

As she reached the head of the stairs, Minerva ducked behind a column and peeked around the corner to stare at Hermione.

She visibly gathered her courage. Minerva realized immediately when her resolve cemented itself into place. The straightening of her spine and squaring of her shoulders gave away her solidified determination.

Hermione secured the envelope between her teeth and combed both hands though her unruly brown tresses. Looking down, she ran both hands down her hips and thighs to work any imagined wrinkles out of her skirt’s fabric. With a sigh she marched determinedly toward the dungeon.

Minerva heard footsteps approaching from behind her, without turning she raised her hand in a gesture asking for continued silence.

Luna quickly reached the column and peeked round the other side. When Hermione slipped through the dungeon entrance, Luna turned to McGonagall and raised both eyebrows in query, “Well?”

“That was easily managed,” McGonagall sighed happily, “almost too easily.”

Luna nodded her head in agreement, “So, what did the message say?”

Minerva grinned wickedly before responding, “Severus, don’t waste your chance. If you ask nicely. . . maybe she’ll say yes.”

* * * * * * * * * * *

Lupin hesitated before knocking on the studio door. He had heard from Sirius, first-hand, the ruthlessness of the make-up girl, Amy.

Before he raised his hand to make contact with the door’s surface, she pulled it open and gestured him inside.

Gripping his lean face between both hands, she nodded her head, making barely audible comments about good bone structure.

Then releasing him, she clapped her hands together, grinned and ordered, “Take off your clothes and get into bed.”

He inhaled sharply and his left eyebrow rose wickedly, while he addressed her in the same directive tone, “Tell me your shoe size.”

She looked at him archly and asked, “Why is my shoe size important?”

“Well, you’ll be getting what you want. I just wondered if I would be as satisfied,” came his rapid reply.

Rolling her eyes, she ushered him behind a changing screen, then turned away to grab a few bottles and tubes from her large case.

His animal instincts could easily sense the desire that coursed through her as she worked steadily, applying a glossy sheen to his lips.

The smell of her desire caught him, and taunted the beginnings of his own arousal.

She chose not to utter another word, but her flushed cheeks and rapid breathing betrayed her awareness of him. She unashamedly brushed against him as he rose from the make-up stool. Her fingers stroked up and down his ribs, feeling the play of muscles under his skin. Her eyes were focused on, as if hypnotized by, the rise and fall of his chest. He stood there entranced waiting to see what her next move would be.

With a shuddering sigh, Amy jerked her small hand away. She licked her lips before raising her gaze to his.

“Are you finished?” Lupin was the first to break the growing silence.

“You mean you can’t tell,” came Amy’s rapid reply. “How disappointing.”

Lupin’s only response was a wolfish grin.

He emerged seconds later, disdaining the dressing gown perched on a peg behind the screen.

Amy pointed him toward the set, he nodded, smiled unselfconsciously and wandered in the direction she indicated.

She followed a few paces behind and gazed appreciatively at the ripple of muscles dancing across his firm back and buttocks. He was slender, but so well-muscled she could easily imagine the strength in this arms and pelvis.

When he stepped onto the wide set, he immediately understood Amy’s earlier comment.

There on his left, a raised dais elevated the largest bed he had ever seen. It was a canopy, made of heavy wood, baroque in design, draped in fabrics and surrounded by candles. He felt vaguely discomfited by the sight.

Luna appeared on his right, a light blush covering her cheeks. “Great, we’re ready for you Remus.” She avoided looking him in the face, but instead concentrated on some point over his right shoulder.

He nodded benignly, noticing a faint musky fragrance on her skin.

He walked over and sat on the edge of the bed.

Amy followed doggedly, “Before you get into, . . .uh, position, I just need to. . .” Her words died away as she waved a small, brush in his face. A powder puff appeared out of nowhere and she patted him here and there. Her movements were so haphazard he wondered if she actually had a goal in mind when she transfigured the thing besides touching him.

* * * * * * * * * *

McGonagall hurried down the center aisle of the Great Hall, a vividly wrapped package clutched under her arm. She quickly caught Madame Hooch’s eyes, and then gestured for her to follow.

Rolanda looked at her quizzically and nodded her head in agreement before rising from her seat.

She caught up with Minerva just as she exited through the large, oak door.

“What is it?” Rolanda asked curiously.

With a silencing stare, Minerva shushed her. “Follow me,” She whispered.

Overcome with curiosity at Minerva‘s odd behavior, Rolanda reluctantly nodded her agreement and followed closely behind.

They hurried to the Ladies’ Staff Lounge, closed and warded the door.

“Well, what is it?” Rolanda questioned.

“You will never guess what I found in the hands of a Slytherin,” McGonagall taunted her.

“Another copy of ‘Wands’, I know. I’ve been confiscating them from everywhere,” Rolanda commented dryly. “Just this morning Bill asked for my assistance in clearing out Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom again, said he was tired of finding them tucked into every available crevice.”

“I have a copy of ‘Wands’, yes; but not another copy, if you catch my meaning,” Minerva replied cryptically. She loudly tore through the vivid purple wrapping and let it drift to the ground. Her eyes completely fixed upon the cover.

“Not another copy? Perhaps Lupin’s issue, then?” Rolanda looked at her amusedly.

Minerva gave a single nod as her fingers separated the pages and she began her search.

“What did you find?” Rolanda asked, immediately noticing Minerva’s shift in posture.

“A very strange advertisement.” Minerva’s reply was slow in coming.

Rolanda yanked the magazine from her hands and glanced at the page.

“The New and Enhanced Pocket Sneak-a-poke?” Rolanda inquired lightly.

“Apparently, it comes with new vibrating action,” Minerva remarked archly. “As well as a silencing charm.”

“That should come in handy. You certainly can’t Sneak-a-poke if you’re being too noisy,” Hooch returned dryly.

Minerva neatly snatched the magazine out of Rolanda’s eager hands to continue her own search. She snorted loudly upon turning to a large Gilderoy Lockhart advertisement. “That man doesn’t know when to quit.”

“I should hope not,” Madame Hooch responded, thinking McGonagall referred to Lupin’s pages.

“I was referring to Gilderoy,” Minerva returned quickly, “he’s publishing a new book. Would you believe it’s entitled, 'Midnight Confessions of the Bandon Banshee'.”

“Seems he’s getting into the spirit of his new position,” Madame Hooch commented.

Minerva responded derisively, “Let’s hope it’s the only position we ever see him in.”

A sudden knock at the door interrupted Minerva’s next remark. Surveying Rolanda with a questioning look, she walked briskly to the door, unwarded it and wrenched it open.

“Sibyll, what a surprise,” Minerva offered in greeting.

“You’re no more surprised than I,” Sibyll responded in a smoky voice. “I was just pouring myself a cup of tea, when I noticed, floating next to the cup’s rim, several leaves forming a basket, which indicates a forthcoming gift. They then shifted into the form of a bee, which signifies a meeting with friends, and finally a penis, a symbol for which, I believe, no explanation is necessary.”

Rolanda gaped at her in disbelief, as Sibyll continued, her voice quavering mystically. “I knew immediately to rush down from my tower.”

Minerva continued to flip quickly through the pages, “And, here you are.” Her disdain for the art of Tasseomancy, and in fact all the Divinative arts, apparent in her tone.

The sound of rustling pages filled the room as Minerva scanned through the magazine. Her frantic search impeded by Sibyll and Rolanda, who were leaning heavily on both of her arms.

Trelawney sniffed disgustedly, impatient with McGonagall’s fumbling.

“There it is.” Rolanda slipped her fingers between two pages, trying to pry the upper part from under Minerva’s fingers. “Page 88.”

The three witches gazed unblinkingly at the first page.

From center of the double page spread, Lupin stared sulkily, like a little boy denied his favorite treat. His shiny, lips formed a perfect pout. He lay, on his side, down the center of a large, canopied bed covered in blood-red silk. Behind the bed, the backdrop was dominated by a full, glowing, silvery moon. The headline flashed in shocking, white letters across the top of the page, ‘When the Full Moon Rises. . .”

“When the full moon rises, I’d let that wolf in the door,” Sibyll squeaked in appreciation. “He could even come in the back way.”

Rolanda murmured in agreement then changed her mind, “You have him on the full moon Sibyll, and I’ll have him on the new. If he‘s coming in the back way, you better clean off the porch.”

Sibyll chose to ignore her obvious innuendo.

“There is something written there, etched into the bed frame,” Minerva interrupted them abruptly. “Only I can’t make it out.”

Rolanda looked even more closely at the page, working to prevent the casual eye slippage that would distract her, and refocus her attention on Lupin. “I think it says 'Serised tsekrad ruoy dloh I steehs ym neewteb'.” Was her

garbled reply.

“It reminds me of the Mirror of Erised,” Sibyll injected with a throaty laugh, “Perhaps this is the bed of Erised.”

“Yes indeed,” Minerva replied easily. ”I believe you’re right.”

“I wonder if there’s a bureau of Erised,” Rolanda pondered aloud.

“Never mind that now,” Minerva returned and impatiently turned the page.

“Merlin’s balls!” Barking laughter escaped Rolanda’s lips before she could help herself.

The first picture at the top of the page appeared to be a beach scene of sorts.

As they concentrated, Remus stepped into the picture a large hoop in his hands. With a swift twist, he sent it spinning about his waist, where his hips joined in the action. As his hips wiggled from side to side the hoop danced downward a few inches to settle around his hips. Back and forth they swayed with his erection dancing from side to side with the momentum.

“What on earth is that thing?” Sibyll asked aghast.

Minerva grinned knowingly, “I believe it is a Muggle toy, called a Hula Hoop.”

Giving the camera a half-smile, half-grimace he increased his speed until the hoop itself became a lime green blur. With a nod of his head, another hoop appeared mysteriously in the photo, this one around his neck. He worked the hoop downward, shimmying his body in a snake like fashion, where it stopped just above his abdomen, this one leaving a fuchsia blur.

The women watched in fascination as he again nodded and another hoop appeared this one sunshine yellow. Working it down his chest, he grinned knowingly into the camera. Without warning the lights went out in the picture and the scene was illuminated by black floodlights. His swaying cock, glowing phosphorescently in the dim room.

“Glow in the dark paint.” Sibyll panted, “How do I get that job?”

Minerva swayed on her feet and fanned herself frantically, “Dear God.”

A few seconds passed and the lights were abruptly restored, a few more revolutions of the hoops and Lupin stopped suddenly. The spinning hoops seemed to be magically drawn to his stunning erection.

As he stood there legs braced apart, hands on his hips, the hoops continued their journey, spinning with rapid momentum and appearing to shrink in size until they encircled his ‘Lord of the Cockrings’ in colorful splendor.

Barely breathing in fear of breaking the spell, the three witches shifted their gazes to the next photo.

The largest picture on the right side of the page was dominated by a large bucket of soapy water.

Lupin entered from the left dressed only in a frilly, blue chiffon apron. He knelt down his hands and knees on the hard wood floor, gave the camera a slight wink, placed his hand in the bucket and pulled out a sponge.

Using his right hand, he attacked the floor with domestic vengeance, muscles rippling in his arms and legs as he scrubbed. As he worked his way into a rhythm, he grabbed the sponge with both hands and thrust forward and back, without missing a spot. Hips flexing, knees spread, he worked his way across the floor.

Sweat beaded on his brow, and he used his forearm to wipe away the moisture. As he took that first swipe, water dripped down from his wet hands and the sodden sponge, to his glistening chest. Muscles redefined as the rivulets made their journey into the sinful chiffon.

“A man doing domestic work is just overwhelming.” Sibyll exhaled heavily. “I did not foresee this; it brings a tear to the inner eye.”

Minerva gasped in agreement. “I’m tired of reality. This is the best fantasy I’ve seen in years.”

As they gazed at the photo with rapt attention, Lupin used the sponge to spread soap suds across his gleaming torso. The camera took that moment to pan completely around Lupin’s erect form. The sodden chiffon clung sweetly to his turgid member.

Sibyll swallowed audibly, and grinned in appreciation

“Wow, that’s a dreamcicle. I imagine there’s plenty of cream filling,” Rolanda mused aloud.

Minerva immediately hushed her, afraid of being distracted before his next move. But the photo panned completely around and restarted at the beginning.

The final photograph featured Lupin dressed in leather pants and a skin tight t-shirt. He entered the picture from the right side, walked toward and disappeared through a door in the background. Several seconds passed before the door swung inward, where Lupin once again entered the scene. Under one arm he had a four pack of toilet roll and under the other a box of Playtex tampons.

Rolanda and Sibyll sighed in unison as they watched him saunter toward the middle of the scene and present his purchases directly to the camera.

“He even shops,” Rolanda whispered to the room. “And he’s not too embarrassed to be spotted in the feminine hygiene aisle.”

“Now that’s a man.” Minerva chortled.

* * * * * * * * * * *

There’s A Wolf At The Door: A Chat With Remus Lupin

Fresh from last month’s interview with Mr. May, ‘Wands’ newest reporter Hermione Granger recently met up with Hogwarts Instructor, Order of The Phoenix Member and our Mr. June, Remus Lupin.

“Thank you for meeting with me today, Remus.” Hermione began the interview slowly, dict-a-quill flying rapidly across her parchment.

“My pleasure as usual, Miss Granger,” Lupin responded lightly.

“You currently teach Defense Against the Dark Arts.” It was a statement rather than a question.

“Yes,” was Remus’ swift reply. “This is my second occurrence of teaching the subject .”

“How do you enjoy the Dark Arts?” Hermione queried curiously.

Lupin grinned fiendishly, “I enjoy them as often as they‘re offered and not just in the dark.”

Hermione blushed becomingly and recognized immediately the turn the conversation started to take. She tried to head him off, but failed.

“Do you realize that it’s every woman’s fantasy to meet a man with as much chocolate in his pockets as you carry around?”

“Really? No, I haven’t heard that.” Remus laughed lightly and then moved in for the kill. “Usually, women tell me they want a closer look at my ’Pile driver.’

“Your P-p-pile d-driver?” She stammered, knowing instantly, that with just a few words, Lupin controlled the conversation just as Sirius had done (with the Space Monkey incident), and prayed silently for him to redirect his thoughts.

“Yes,” he cut in matter-of-factly. “Of course, I don’t recommend this position soon after eating a bowl of bran cereal.”

She gaped at him in disbelief. Her mouth opened and closed like a dying fish’s as she battled to respond. After a distinct pause, she cleared her throat a couple of times, waiting for the flames in her cheeks to lessen.

“Living in such a remote location can be a lonely experience,” Hermione stated calmly, trying to regain control. “Where do you go to meet new people?”

“Usually Hogsmeade, for a casual drink,” He replied slowly, honestly.

Hermione visibly relaxed considering this neutral territory.

He continued easily, anticipating her response. “Or, I Apparate to London on a free evening. Although with my particular affliction, I prefer to limit my interactions to casual flirtation.”

“How do you approach someone you’re attracted to?” She tried to get him to embellish his answer. She succeeded admirably.

Remus grinned wickedly, “It depends on the signals the other person sends. Body language is very important. I also have an acute sense of smell. If the timing feels right, and the scent is welcoming, I might walk right up to someone and say, ‘Take a tip from me; or, take it all, if you can.’”

Hermione blinked rapidly and nodded her head in mute acceptance, but persevered.

“So, our readers want to know,” She queried, “what it is you look for in a date?”

He stared directly over her right shoulder, pupils fixed as he gave it some thought. “Well, I know most people would say sense of humor, but, since I’m not most people, I would have to say long toes and a nice, soft arse.”

Hermione gave a double blink, the question forming in her eyes. “Why long toes?”

“Shrimping,” Was his only reply.

“I beg your pardon.” Hermione asked, a bit confused.

He, again, gave her that lascivious grin before responding. “I enjoy a bit of shrimp now and then.”

“I didn’t know you liked seafood,” Hermione commented obtusely.

“Not really seafood,” Lupin cut in wolfishly, “but I certainly enjoy a bit of tuna, especially in sandwiches.”

“What else do you like to eat?”

“Well, when I get the opportunity, Tuna tacos and I never say no to a bit of hairy clam,” Lupin returned easily.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Rolanda and Minerva gazed intently at the confiscated magazine.

Trelawney stared dazedly at the ceiling, throat gurgling audibly.

“This one’s almost as bad as the first.” Minerva sighed heavily with appreciation.

Rolanda nodded in agreement, grinning from ear to ear. “They both deserve a sound spanking. I thought you were going to talk to Miss Lovegood about scratch and sniff photos.”

“I did,” Minerva assured her.

“And?” Madam Hooch queried.

“And, she said she would submit the idea for approval,” Minerva responded.

“Submit it to who?” Rolanda persisted.

Minerva shrugged, “The Board of Directors."