Well, this chapter didn't come out like I wanted it to, it's not as smooth, and I'm not as satisfied with it as I am the other two. But, really, how can anyone be expected to concentrate when OotP comes out in a week? That's only SEVEN DAYS. Wooooooohoooooo! Oh, and there's a lot of music in here, I think it helps if you're familiar with the songs, so I apologize if you're not and it's annoying to read.
Thanks for all the reviews, guys!
-- jamie
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He is an evil genius.
I'm afraid. I'm really afraid. Who knew he was capable of this?
He's charmed the entire flat.
To mock me.
Using *MY* CD collection.
And not just me. The flat mocks everyone.
I bet he's been planning this for ages, there's no way he could've have come up with all this since just yesterday. I'm sure I haven't even witnessed half of the damage he's done.
It's madness.
I stepped out of the shower this morning and looked in the mirror. Harmless enough, right?
Not when Ron's your flatmate.
The entire room was overcome with sound and The Undertones belted out "I wanna wanna be a male model! I wanna wanna be a male model!"
I've never run faster than I did out of that room.
There was silence as I sat at the breakfast table, that is until Hermione sat down, then the kitchen inexplicably turned into a Clash concert and "1-2, I've got a crush on you!" could be heard over even my cursing Ron.
After Joe Strummer (and the blush painting my face) died down, Hermione asked conversationally if I'd heard from Sirius lately. She clearly didn't think much of Ron's antics and was choosing not to acknowledge them. The antics, however, were acknowledging her. Specifically her use of the word 'Sirius,' which set off Iggy Pop.
"Now I wanna be your dog…now I wanna be your dog."
Trying to get into the spirit of things, thinking if I acted unfazed it would go away, I said 'Lupin.'
"Oow-ooo, werewolves of London!"
Not so bad, I guess. Hermione and I spent the rest of the meal shouting out names and things, most notably Malfoy, who set off "Puff, the Magic Dragon." It was a good time.
Until we sat down on the couch to listen to watch the muggle weather report.
Hermione perched herself on an arm and as soon, we're talking tenths of a second here, as my ass hit the cushions, the Rolling Stones blared, louder than any song thus far.
"Let's spend the night together, now I need you more than I ever. . ."
And where the other songs had only played clips, choruses and what not, the entire song played.
I mean, have you listened to the lyrics of that song?
"I'll satisfy your every need, and now I know you will satisfy me. . ."
I'm going to kill him.
I really am.
This thing with Hermione is precarious enough as is, I don't need Ron or Mick Jagger's help to fuck it up.
I just have to find him. I know for a fact his tee time isn't until 11:30 and it's only 9:15.
Although, if I'd made the entire flat into a funhouse designed to embarrass my two best friends, I wouldn't stick around either.
Looking at Hermione, she seems to be handling this with respectable aplomb, no blush, no fidgeting, nothing.
I, on the other hand, am the very definition of jumpy.
I reckon it's because Hermione knows our future. She knows what's going to happen with us, as I'm basically going to do whatever the hell she tells me to ('Harry?' 'Yes?' 'Jump.' 'How high?'). But me, I have no clue what's going on in her head. She could be plotting to run away with her male personal assistant (ahem, secretary, ahem) over at the Ministry for all I know.
She breaks my musings with, "Well, at least we've got him listening to muggle music."
That, ladies and gentlemen, is the reason I love her. She takes a situation that I'm just on the edge of despairing about and flips it on its ear.
"Yes, there is that. And he was pretty creative."
"Indeed. Well, I'm off to work," (Ron strikes again, " I don't wanna work, I just wanna bang on the drum all day!"), do I need to pick up any sort of new clothing for tomorrow? Something fancy or quidditch pads or something?"
Er. . .hadn't really thought about that. I hadn't really thought about much beyond the part where I have Hermione with me.
"Well, first dates aren't usually too fancy, are they? I think the stuff in your closet will be more than appropriate. And if you need quidditch pads, you can always borrow mine from 3rd year, you're about that tall right?"
She grabs a pillow and smacks me upside the head, "I was taller than you in 3rd year."
"If you say so."
She laughs, "I don't need you to believe me, there are pictures to prove it. Look there at that one on the mantle."
Sure enough, 3rd year picture Harry is on tip-toe, trying to get the hair on his head to stand taller than Hermione's, while she stands and looks at him with amusement.
Damn. There's only one thing to do about that.
"Yeah? Well I'm taller NOW." And I grab her from the end of the couch, growl and drag her down until I'm lying prone on top of her, effectively trapping her for the tickling I'm about to start in on.
"See? We're face to face and your feet only reach my shins."
Oh.
We're face to face.
I have got to start thinking things through.
She smirks and shifts her hips, and I gasp, startled, a reaction she takes advantage of, rolling me off her and the couch, onto the floor.
"Give it one more day, Potter."
She *pops* away and I'm left sprawled awkwardly on the floor.
Shaking my head quickly, I stand and make my way over to the fireplace, grabbing a handful of floo powder, I yell "The Burrow," and just before I'm jolted away, I can hear Madness singing, "Our house, in the middle of our street. . ."
As I stumble out of the fireplace, I'm greeted by the sight of Mrs. Weasley drinking a cup of tea and reading today's Prophet.
"Oh, hello Harry! I wasn't sure what time you'd be dropping by. I was happy to receive your owl, you know you're always welcome here, especially if you're volunteering for de-gnoming duty."
I grin at her, "Well, thank you. How have you been? I haven't seen you since Ginny's graduation and that was what, almost two weeks ago?"
"To the day. She's upstairs now working on her application to the Ministry with Draco."
Mm-hmm, sure they're working on her application. And Percy's joined the circus.
"I'll have to make sure to say hello to them."
"And how is my youngest son, up to no good I suppose?"
I recall the past hour with frightening vividness and decide Mrs. Weasley doesn't need to be hearing about all that. "Er, he's doing all right, he wouldn't be Ron without a little mischief now and then. He's actually playing golf this afternoon with a muggle businessman."
"Oh yes, trying to get the property for the new store right? Golf, did you say? I didn't know Ron could golf."
"Well, he can't, or rather, he couldn't, Hermione taught him the other day so that he'd be prepared."
"Bless her heart. And how is she?"
Before I can stop myself, I rush out, "She's great, we're having a date tomorrow night."
"You are?" Mrs. Weasley has a pleased look on her face.
I can stop myself from fidgeting, "Uh, yes, I thought it was about time."
"That's just lovely. You make sure to be a gentleman."
Yes, I'll be a gentleman, just like Draco's being upstairs right now.
"Of course. Well, I best get out and start my training before it gets too hot. Thank you for having me."
"It's no problem at all, Harry. Do come find me when you're done and I'll fix you a pumpkin juice."
"Sure thing."
I'm about to head out the back door when I hear two sets of feet rushing down the stairs, "Harry! We thought we'd missed you, we wanted to say hello before you got all sweaty."
Would you look at the two of them?
Ginny's shirt is all askew and buttoned wrong and Draco's got lipstick on his face.
I swipe the back of my hand over my mouth, trying to signal to him to wipe it off before Mrs. Weasley notices. He catches on and rubs furiously at his lips. Not much I can do about Ginny's shirt, but then, maybe Mrs. Weasley won't notice.
"Erm, yes, Pott-, Harry, wouldn't want to be trying to talk to you with you stinking like a pig."
Some things never change.
"So how've you been, Gin?"
"I'm well, Draco's here helping me with my application to the Ministry, giving me tips and whatnot, since he had to do it last year. How are things with you?"
"They're just fine, I'm glad the season's over, I was pretty tired there during playoffs. Speaking of which, I should start my run now, it was nice seeing you again." I nod my head, "Draco," and practically sprint outside.
Ten more seconds in that house and I would've burst out laughing. Not only was Ginny's shirt improperly buttoned, her bra was sticking to the back of her skirt. Either Mrs. Weasley has really lost her edge or she just doesn't care anymore.
After two laps around the Burrow's perimeter, it's apparent that it's much too hot for the dark gray t-shirt I have on and shuck it off and fling it in the direction of the garden I'll soon be working in.
Eight laps later and I've figured out that it is possible to trip over your own two feet and that I have no idea where I'm supposed to take Hermione tomorrow night.
First dates in the real world are much different than first dates at Hogwarts, there your options are Hogsmeade, a ball, or, well, Hogsmeade again.
What's that muggle expression, "Dinner and a movie?" I guess we could do dinner and a show. I reckon I should try and stick to the normal as much as possible to be true to my speech yesterday.
I guess we could go to the new restaurant down the street. Walking distance, casual dress, a BIG bar. What's not to like? And plus, we're close to the flat, if this thing blows up in my face, I won't have to go too far to find a familiar wall to bang my head against.
I guess that'll be the tentative plan, if Hermione has any better ideas, I'm sure she won't hesitate to speak up.
I start in on the garden and finish within the hour. I wander back into the house, hoping I don't smell like Malfoy said. I nod at Mrs. Weasley and she gasps and whispers to me, "Harry, dear, I can see your underwear!"
I look down and realize I forgot to grab my t-shirt and that the dark blue shorts I wore to run have fallen low, revealing the top of the green and white plaid of my other shorts. I tug the blue ones back up, laughing to myself. That woman raised five boys and has actually washed my boxer shorts more times than I can count and she almost looks embarrassed.
Maybe she just doesn't want me scandalizing Ginny. Not that Malfoy's not making quick work of that.
"Sorry about that, Mrs. Weasley." I'm tempted to tell her that we walk around not wearing any shorts at all back at our flat, at Ron's insistence, just to see what she'd do, but decide against it, I'll think of a better way to get back at that boy.
"Will you be staying for dinner?"
Sure, let me stick around here for another five hours, with Ginny and Malfoy upstairs probably making your first grandchild. That'll totally work out well.
"Oh, no, I couldn't possibly, I have to get home and shower and it's my night to cook. Ron and Hermione would kill me if I ate your delicious food and left them with nothing. Thanks very much for the offer though."
"All right then, remember though, Harry, you're welcome anytime."
Yes, provided you can't see my underwear.
I smile at her, wave, and floo myself home.
-_-_-_-_-
Well, Ron did terribly at golf, but was able to come to a deal on the property.
Or at least that's what the note tacked to the fridge says. He's still in hiding. Hermione came home for lunch and announced she'd be at the Ministry until late tonight and not to wait up.
Damn it, I could've eaten at the Weasley's and no one would've cared.
And I spent the evening eating leftover pizza and trying to disarm all of Ron's charms. It seems like they only work once, because looking in the mirror didn't set off anything and I actually spoke to Sirius via floo and Iggy Pop was no where to be heard. I'm still a little afraid though, that one on the couch only worked when both Hermione and I were on it, I reckon there's some more like that around.
It really is quite boring here without the two of them around, keeping me entertained.
Guess there's nothing to do now but wait for tomorrow to come and, in my experience, the best way to wait is to sleep. Off to bed I go.
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Ok, well, I obviously don't own any of the music in here. It belongs, in order, to The Undertones, The Clash, Iggy Pop (and the Stooges), Warren Zevon, Peter, Paul, and Mary, The Rolling Stones, Todd Rundgren, and Madness. I think I got them all.