Disclaimer: I am in no way affiliated with JKR and thank god for that. Also, I have no ties to the WB or Bloomsbury or anything of the sort…
Author's Note: This fic is meant to be one of those enjoyable fics that we all need right now: I am in no mood for angst or heavy drama. I just want to laugh.
This, actually, is a fic I am writing for a very very very very important person. She is the Sis of my heart, and it was her birthday this past week, and I remember her gleefully waiting for HBP…only to have this happen.
Sis: This is to everything we've been through: From Roswell, to VC Andrews, to Hemingway, and especially HP… and everything we will go through.
Once an Auror, always an Auror.
P.S.: You are the best person to abuse Ginny with.
(This fic has been brought to you by Show You How by The Killers. Now, back to our program!)
*~*~*~*~*
That flat you share is Muggle-well, Muggle to an extent.
Ron thought it would be great fun to live as one. And the first week, he did find it rather delightful. He took great pleasure in figuring out how to use a television, and the corresponding control. He found light switches to be a thing of wonder, as well as regular, manually operated showers and sinks.
But then he realized that food had to be cooked, that it did not just magically materialize before you. He also found out that clothes tended to pile up into corners when not washed…perhaps living as a Muggle (to an extent), wasn't all the great adventure he had thought it would be.
So after a few weeks of living so abominably, he ran off screaming to his mum, and the flat was left for the both of you to enjoy. You were raised as Muggles, so the Muggleness of it all was not strange; it was actually quite comforting. Both of you found the wonderful balance of Muggle and Wizarding lifestyles quite soothing…almost relaxing. It was a bit like finally finding a true home as it blended the two halves of your beings quite brilliantly. And living together, alone, did not bother you much either as you had always been very good friends. Friends. Friends, and only friends. There had never been any awkwardness or any sort of romantic nonsense between the two of you, no--you were good friends. Great friends. Best friends.
Bonus point: you could invite your parents over whenever you wanted and not be afraid that some Magical mishap would occur.
With Ron gone, the spare bedroom became "the magical room." It was the one room that the both of you felt at leisure to do all sorts of magical things in; under normal circumstances it was a shared study. Being the "magical room," you both agreed to magically enlarge it, as two desks would never fit in that room. And sometimes, you'd stay up together and do paperwork. When this was the case, in the midst of long silences where all that could be heard was the scratching of Quills, one of you would say something to break the silence, and instead of working, you'd end up babbling the night away.
But that hardly ever happened. He preferred to do his paperwork in the living room in front of the television; you hardly ever left the ministry without a clean desk.
Though, some days you'd get sick of the place, and leave early without thinking twice. And because you've the type of personality that thrives on work and efficiency, you know that on those days when you really feel like killing yourself instead of staying at the office working, you really need to leave. And you always do.
You came home early on the day it all began because it happened to be one of those days. You came home, and were quite sore at the world because it happened to also be a rather rare and excruciatingly hot day, and the more you got done at work, the more there seemed to appear….
And for the past four hours you'd been sitting around on a full bladder, as there hadn't been enough time for the loo.
But now you were at home, and quite sure that you'd be able to have a pee in peace. But when you turned the knob on your bathroom door, you found to your great chagrin that it was locked. And then you heard the shower running, and you really wanted to destroy the world because all you wanted was to have a pee!
And Harry Potter was taking a shower.
Suddenly, you didn't feel sore at the world. You felt sore at him.
You couldn't very well hold it much longer, so you began devising a list of possible alternatives. You could apparate yourself to the Weasleys, but that would be just as awful because you'd have to run into a thousand Weasleys wanting to know how you were and how Harry was before you could actually get to the loo. And just apparating into their bathroom was also beside the point, as that was just rude. And apparating into a random restaurant toilet was also out of the question, as you couldn't very well be sure that they were unoccupied…
Grr! And you thought magic was supposed to facilitate life!
Because you couldn't stand the thought of holding it for a second longer, you did what any other red-blooded, extremely desperate witch would have done in your situation.
You Alohamora'd! your way in.
You had some misgivings, because when thinking about it, you'd hate it if Harry ever barged in on you whilst you showered. But really now, you couldn't hold it forever! And Harry didn't have to know…you could just slip in quietly and slip back out…he need never know. The bathroom was immense, and the toilet was closest to the door and the furthest thing from the shower…and its not like you're some sort of peeping Tom…you wouldn't even try to look at his silhouette against the shower curtain…
After finally having conducted your business, you felt quite relieved. You had to bite back some giggles because you found, to your great amusement, that Harry had a thing for whistling in the shower. But just as you were about to get up and slip away, the unthinkable happened.
Harry got out of the shower.
He didn't have his glasses on, so the first thing he did was feel around for a towel. But instead of wrapping it around himself like you really hoped he would because by this time you had already had a wonderful glimpse of everything and were really feeling guilty about it, he instead dried his face a bit, and continued to waltz around completely naked.
What is it about females that when faced with the prospect of a naked male standing before them, they seem to be able to focus on only one part of the male's entire anatomy?
Really now. Why can't your eyes focus on a man's shoulders, or his chest…noooo. It's like some inner radar thing: your eyes always focus on something south of the border, as if the male reproductive organs have some sort of magnetic attraction going for them. Even if you're looking at a naked man from behind, you'll always still look down to see if you can catch a glimpse of something dangling there.
And try as you might to feign daintiness, and cover your eyes with your hands, you'll always manage to leave a small enough space between your fingers in order to see everything.
Those were the thoughts that ran through your head as you watched him feel around for his glasses, which were right next to the sink. You blanched when he found them, felt terrified when he put them on, and…
"Bloody hell!"
You waved at him from your perch on the toilet. You finally got enough presence of mind to close your knees, and look away sheepishly.
"Wha-what are you doing in here?" he asked, as if he was completely oblivious to the fact that you were sitting on a toilet.
"I had to go," you replied simply, biting on your lower lip, trying your hardest to think of something clever or more appropriate to say, but completely failing to do so.
He nodded, looking completely confounded. You really felt like laughing by this time, especially because he was still standing before you, naked, like it was the most natural thing in the world…
"Good Lord!" he exclaimed, realizing that he was completely exposed to the world, and used his towel to cover himself.
You could feel the heat in your cheeks. This whole scenario had played out quite differently in your head…
"Err…well, all right. I'm going to-see you tomorrow, Hermione."
He walked out of the bathroom, his arse still completely uncovered. You bit back a giggle, and covered your face with your hands.
*~*~*~*~*
The next morning you thought that things would be completely awkward. And at first, they were. But after the second cup of tea, and the third guilty look you threw in his general direction (which he always managed to catch), you found that you could no longer deal with this, and began to laugh.
You'd been wanting to laugh since the second you sat yourself down on the toilet to have a pee. But now, instead of you just laughing by yourself like some kind of freak, he was laughing with you. You were both laughing. He had tea dribbling down his jaw. You spit your tea out of your mouth, and sprayed Hedwig all over, which made you both laugh even harder, and made Hedwig fly away angrily.
After about ten minutes of pure, unadulterated mirth, you finally found it the appropriate time to apologize.
"Harry, I'm-"
"It's ok," he said, a broad grin on his face. "You don't need to apologize, I understand. It was only an accident."
You nodded, thankful that he wasn't upset. Had it been you, you probably would've transfigured him into something unpleasant, but he was Harry. That wasn't like him.
"Yes. It was only an accident."
*~*~*~*~*
Yes. It had only been an accident. So you couldn't very well blame her, could you? She was clearly penitent. And things like this tended to happen when people shared close living quarters…there was no great cause for alarm…
The whole incident had been very funny.
In fact, you found it so very humorous, that it caused you to burst out laughing at random times throughout the day at work. You were beginning to suspect that people were under the impression that you were going mad, so you decided to head home before they decided you really were crazy and locked you in St. Mungo's.
But before you could get enough work done to call it an early day, you were called in to Kingsley Shacklebolt's office. There was a split second where you panicked over the whole St. Mungo's thing…but those thoughts were soon shelved aside when you saw the bright grin on his face…
You were to be promoted! How unbelievably brilliant! You were now to head an entire Auror Division yourself…excellent! Sod madness! Now you wanted to go home early so that you could surprise her with the news! You could have her transferred to your division…wouldn't she love that? Perhaps you, she, and Ron could go out to dinner and celebrate!
The second you stepped out of Shacklebolt's office you apparated home. The flat looked empty, which was just as well, as she didn't get out of work until later. You couldn't help feeling disappointed--you really wanted to share the good news with somebody.
You decided to head on over to the Weasleys', as you were quite certain that there you could find a million somebodies to share the news with. However, you wanted her to start getting ready to go out the second she got home (she bloody took for ever!). How were you to manage it…
A NOTE!
You'd leave her a note before you left. You scurried around for some quill and parchment, wrote the note, and decided to leave it hanging on her door.
But what if she apparated home and directly into her room? Or flooed directly into her room? She'd miss the note completely! No, that would NOT do. You'd have to leave it in her room…
So you opened the door, expecting only you leave the note lying on her bed where she would be sure to see it.
Of course you weren't expecting to find her already home, standing about wearing nothing but a lacy bra and knickers.
"Bloody hell!" you exclaimed, shutting your eyes as tightly as possible, but not being able to get the picture of her, wearing that, out of your head. You were surprised at how quickly the picture seemed to reform itself in your head-crystal clear-as if you saw her in that state everyday---nothing but skin and light lavender knickers…and you didn't doubt for a second that the picture would forever be engraved in your mind…
"Harry! What are you doing here?" she asked, grabbing the sheet from her bed and wrapping it around herself hastily.
You opened one eye, not being able to resist the temptation a second longer. "I was-I…err…I got promoted?"
"Oh. That's-well, wonderful."
You opened the other eye, half-grateful, half-peeved she had managed to cover herself. "I was going to leave you a note…here."
You handed her the note.
She read the note, and broke out into a huge grin. "Oh."
Noticing the grin, you started smiling yourself. "Yes. Oh."
"Well…I'll start getting ready, then. You best get Ron started. He takes bloody forever!"
You nodded, not really knowing what else to do.
"Harry, I need you to, you know-" and she pointed at the door, telling you in not so many words to get the fuck out you perverted git!
"Yes. Right. Err…be ready in an hour?"
She nodded, holding the sheet around her awkwardly.
"Ok. Bye."
You walked, heaving a sigh of relief. Oh my…
*~*~*~*~*
You were waiting in the living room for the both of them. They both took bloody forever. Ron might as well declare himself a woman. How he used to complain whenever Hermione used up entire hours to beautify herself…now it seemed like they were vying each other for the 'who takes longest to get ready' record.
When she appeared before he did, it seemed like Ron was in the lead at the moment.
She looked perfectly composed, as if he hadn't just seen her in her knickers an hour before. And try as you might to act just as self-possessed, you couldn't help but shiver a little as you helped her into her coat.
What kind of knickers was she wearing now?
You soon realized that that train of thought needed to be derailed. Immediately. So more for that than for actually stumbling into the sanctity of her room whilst she was scantily clad, you decided it was high time you apologized.
"Err…Hermione. About earlier today, you know, when I-"
"Oh honestly! It's ok Harry. You did no worse than I did yesterday." She had a certain smile on her lips as she said this. It was a mixture of mirth and…something else. And somehow you mentally added the smile into the picture you had stored of her in her lacy knickers…
Oh boy.
"We both know it was only an accident, Harry."
Yes. It was only an accident.
An accident.
"What time is Ron coming?" she asked, successfully changing the subject.
As if he had been summoned, Ron appeared out of nowhere, looking just as dashing as he normally managed to appear.
And you silently hated him for it.
"So, what are we doing tonight, boss?" he asked with his usual cheek.
You rolled your eyes, but smiled happily. "I was thinking we could have a nice, celebratory dinner, and then follow that with-"
"A trip to the pubs where we can get sloshed beyond human capabilities?" Ron said this in quite a dignified manner, which made Hermione snort.
"Of course," you replied, not having planned that at all, but deciding to go along with the scheme.
"Oh, and I took the liberty of inviting Neville, Luna, and…Romilda Vane." Ron said, picking imaginary lint off of himself.
Hermione raised her eyebrows appraisingly.
"You haven't eaten any Chocolate Cauldrons lately, have you?" you asked, grinning from ear to ear.
"Oh stop it!" Ron said, his ears turning pink. "That was what…four years ago? You people seriously need to move on. Besides, it's not as if I planned this…I just sort of bumped into her, 'tis all."
"Right…" Hermione said, trying to cover her smile with her hands. You thought she looked fetching.
"Look, let's get going, shall we?" Ron said, wanting to flee the topic. "We have a full night ahead of us, and Luna has agreed to be our Designated Apparater."
*~*~*~*~*
"Well, so much for our Designated Apparater," you said mockingly, giving Ron your best malicious, albeit teasing, smile.
Really. The night had been quite…eventful. Harry had insisted that everyone put away their wallets, that tonight was to be his treat. And what an indulgent master he was. He had taken you all to a very fashionable, high-end restaurant in Diagon Alley called Napoleon's that was best known for its chocolate desserts, and its outrageous prices. The cost of a basket of bread alone was equal to the sum of what one would pay to take ownership of a small, third-world country. But Harry didn't seem to care; he kept ordering the best wine, and spoiling everyone with all matter of chocolate desserts…by the end of the night, you were quite sure that he had bankrupted himself.
And then Ron was Ron.
Of course it had to have been Ron. Neville was clumsy…it was his nature, but Ron was…Ron. He lived to cause chaos. It was one of those things he was best at. And tonight he achieved this in the most fantastic manner.
In the center of the restaurant there was an extravagant chocolate masterpiece: a scaled replica of Versailles. It was beautiful…quite large, encompassing all of Versaille's vast gardens, and made from the best french chocolate the head chef--Monsieur d'Orleans--could get his grubby little connoisseur's fingers on.
The chateau was one of a kind. And very expensive.
By the time Ron got up to go to the loo, he had had a little too much wine. You could tell because he had started getting a little too flirty with Luna when he was supposed to be there with Romilda, much to Neville's chagrin. You told him as much before he got up to go.
"Would you like Harry or Neville to accompany you?" you asked him pointedly, noticing that he was a bit unsteady on his feet.
"What for? I'm no'a witch!" he exclaimed, his words a bit slurry. "Wizards don' go to the loo in packs!" He slammed his fist on the table to emphasize his point.
Still, you watched him from afar. It was second nature by now. You had been babysitting the both of them since you were eleven: the habit was hard to break.
"Stop worrying about him, Hermione," Harry said to you, shoving a chocolate covered something into your mouth. "He'll be fine! He's only going to the loo."
You didn't really process anything that he was saying though, because you were suddenly aware that his fingers were in your mouth. And that they had lingered there a second too long. He beamed at you…a lazy smile, most likely due to the wine. He was in a good mood, and you loved watching him be happy. He deserved it. But something about the languorous curve of his lips made you feel flushed, and quite unexpectedly, you got an image of his wet and naked torso walking out of the shower...
The wine was getting to you too, apparently.
"Umm…want some more wine?" you asked him, feeling your face go red under his intense scrutiny. Why was he looking at you like that? Were you just imagining him looking at you like that…?
You casually reached over for a bottle of the red wine, but instead, managed to knock the damn thing right over and onto Harry's lap.
"Oh no!" you cried, feeling your face burn with embarrassment. Harry however, instead of being upset, was laughing.
"It's ok Hermione," he said. "It was only an accident!"
Without thinking, you grabbed a napkin from the table and started dabbing his lap with it.
He stopped laughing. And then you realized what you were doing, and stopped abruptly. You looked up at him, and you saw a light in his eye, and it held you transfixed…
But before you could gather enough wits about you to realize what was happening, you heard a crash, a scream, and a trail of French curses coming from every corner of the restaurant.
Oh dear. You had forgotten about RON!
Both you and Harry jumped up from the table, closely followed by a giggling Romilda Vane, a startled Neville, and a completely unruffled Luna.
"Look at this! My chateau! My beautiful chateau! Ruined! By this drunken idiot! Why I never…" and then you arrived just in time to catch Monsieur d'Orleans begin a trail of French curses that were entirely too inappropriate to be spoken in public. (Sod the fact that besides you and the staff, nobody else in the room could possibly understand him!)
"What happened?!" Romilda exclaimed dramatically, bending over to help Ron up from his Versaille-chocolate throne on the floor.
"I don't know!" Ron said, laughing at the destruction he caused.
"This dolt fell on my masterpiece!" Monsieur d'Orleans yelled, pointing an abusive finger at Ron.
Harry stepped forward. "Please, sir, it was only an accident! I'm very sorry! I'm Harry Potter…"
"I don't care who you are!" the Frenchman cried savagely, although his ears twitched at the mention of his name. "I don't care if you're Merlin himself!"
Everyone in the restaurant let out an audible gasp.
"Sir, I promise, I'll pay whatever damages caused…" Harry said gravely, the slight tipsiness gone from his voice.
"Pay? PAY! That was an original! Unique! One of a kind! From the best French chocolat ever…"
And then Monsieur d'Orleans began to sob like a spoiled child. Harry looked quite upset, and started pulling out all sorts of coins from his pockets. He had quite a small fortune with him, and he began shoving a bagful of it in the chef's sobbing face.
The crying stopped at the clinking of coins.
Harry had to pay everything he had to calm the bratty chef. And that meant that you, Luna, Neville, Ron, and Romilda had to scrape every last knut from your own wallets to pay for the extravagant dinner.
The thought of giving up all that money sobered Ron up immediately. And with sobriety came the knowledge that he had ruined Harry's happy evening…
"I'm so sorry mate!" Ron said, looking completely downcast. "I don't know how I fell on it! I think one of the waiters stuck their foot out; the one that had his eye on Romilda all night…"
Romilda giggled, the echo of which bounced off the closed shops of Diagon Alley. It was quite strange walking down it in the evening, when the only places that were open were a few restaurants and pubs (and Fred and George's shop, which NEVER closed).
But that didn't matter: the real problem was that Gringott's was closed. And because it was closed, Ron could not indulge in the second half of the all-night celebration he had planned, as no one had any money.
"Its all right, really," Harry said, patting Ron's shoulder. "We'll go to a pub some other time."
"Well, so much for our Designated Apparater, " you said mockingly, giving Ron your best malicious, albeit teasing, smile. He glowered.
Silently, you felt relieved. Going to pubs wasn't really something you enjoyed all that much, and unbeknownst to him, Ron had saved you a night of either starring at a bunch of drunkards, or waking up with a serious hangover.
Ron stopped in front of the Leaky Cauldron. He starred at it for a bit, as if saying goodbye to a puppy. But then you saw his face brighten, and that look in his eye that usually meant: I just got the most brilliantly stupid idea!
That look had almost killed you and Harry a couple of times in the past.
"I know!" said Ron, looking as if he had just solved world poverty. "I know how we can have fun in a pub, and not have to pay a bloody knut!"
"Ohh…do tell!" Romilda said excitedly. Neville looked skeptical; Luna wasn't paying attention.
"You could pretend you're engaged!" Ron finished with a flourish, his eyes fixed on you and Harry.
"Excuse me?" you said, feeling a slight lump in your stomach.
"Engaged! You and Harry could pretend you're engaged! When Bill and Fleur got engaged, they both spent an entire night with Fred and George at some pub in France getting trashed…completely free of charge! And Bill isn't even famous! Imagine Harry Potter walking into a pub with his fiancé…we'd get the best liquor they'd got!"
You began shaking your head violently. "Are you crazy? Could you imagine what the Daily Prophet would look like tomorrow? Harry wouldn't be able to walk out of our flat!"
"Oh come on Hermione! Stop being such a bore!" Romilda said impatiently.
You wanted to hex her mouth off.
"Harry…?" you said, eyes pleading for him to back you up on this.
So why was your stomach fluttering excitedly?
"I-I think I'm going to have to side with Hemione on this one…" he said hesitantly.
You felt equal parts relief, and disappointment.
"Ohh…I don't care what you think!" Ron said.
The last thing you saw before feeling the queasiness of apparation was Ron nod to Romilda. And then you realized where you were.
You were in the Leaky Cauldron.
And before you could think straight enough to grab Harry and make a run for it, you heard Ron's loud voice bellowing to the drunken public: "Look who just got engaged!"
*~*~*~*~*
A/N: Oh, this is soo not over…
Jane: Thanks. I couldn't have beta'd it better myself…(and this isn't that much of a compliment, since I SUCK at it. Canadians…*roll eyes* )
Rini: You're the bestest!