#microwave

Microwave//Float To The Top

Today’s prompt:  One of them loses a bet and has to wear something ridiculous on Christmas Eve at the Burrow.  Thanks to @not-steve42  for the bet ideas!

“Do I really have to wear this?” Harry asked, looking at his reflection in the mirror.  What was possibly the stupidest Christmas jumper in all creation looked back at him.  A giant reindeer face covered most of it; a glowing red light in place of the nose and stupid google eyes that bounced every time he took a step, making the knitted animal look like it was having a stroke.

“Yes!” Ginny said, her voice echoing from the bathroom.

“Hmph,” he growled, pulling the hem of the thing down, trying not to look at the crazily bouncing eyes.  He turned away from the mirror and headed towards the bathroom.  “What are you wearing?” 

Ginny came out of the bathroom, smoothing the dark red lipstick on her lower lip with her finger.  She paused for a moment in front of him before executing a little twirl, the skirt of her dark green dress flaring out around her legs.  “I didn’t lose the bet,” she said, looking at him over her bare shoulder.  

“No, you only made it impossible for me to win,” Harry said as he made a grab at her.  She easily evaded his grasp and stepped to the side.  

“Hardly impossible.  Merely very difficult.”  She slid her feet into her high heeled sandals and brushed her long hair back from her shoulders before turning to see him staring at her.  She spread her arms out and Harry stepped into them.  “It’s just one night,” she murmured into his hair.

“Yeah, but I look like an idiot.”

Ginny took a step back and grinned up at him.  “Isn’t that a daily occurrence?”

“I’ll show you daily occurrence,” he growled, squeezing her tighter before letting her go.  “Come on, we’re going to be late.”

“Never thought you’d be so eager to show off that beautiful Christmas jumper.”

“It’s not the jumper I want to show off,” Harry murmured, pressing his lips to her temple.

***

The family had swelled impressively of late with six Weasley children and their assorted spouses, significant others and children.  A group of said children thundered past, his own son James in the lead and he had to sidestep quickly to avoid having his cup of mulled wine spilled all down his front.  

Not that I wouldn’t mind if this were ruined.  He looked down at the jumper, the garish red of Rudolph’s nose flashing like an emergency beacon.  Harry had tinkered with it, trying to see if he could get it to flash in Morse code for SOS, but he hadn’t had any luck so far.

He spotted Ron across the room, partially hidden by the enormous Christmas tree and he had to do a double take.  “Is that your hair?” he asked, gesturing at his best friend’s head with his wine mug.  “Why is it green?”

Ron had stood up to his full height and looked down his nose at Harry.  “Yes, this is my hair,” he said, frost lacing his tone.  “Why are you wearing that ridiculous jumper?”

“You first.  Tell me why your hair is green.”  Harry took a sip of his wine, settling in for a good story.

Ron rolled his eyes and sighed.  “That woman,” he said, nodding to where Hermione was deep in conversation with Bill, “is a complete mercenary.”

“This can’t be news to you.  She was a mercenary at eleven.”  

“Anyway, I lost a bet and so now my hair is green for a week.”

Harry frowned, feeling cheated out of a good story.  “That’s it?  You lost a bet?  What was the bet?”

Ron sighed and shook his head.  “I bet her that I could find something in one of my law books faster than she could.”

“She beat you finding something in one of your own books faster than you?”

“It was the laws governing detinue, replevin and trover,” he said, his voice sounding defensive.  “Really old, obscure law; property stuff.”

Harry glanced over at Hermione.  She’d paused in her chat with Bill and looked over at the two of them, a small smile on her lips.  “You should really know better by now,” he said, nudging his friend on his shoulder.

“You should, too, especially when my sister’s involved.  How’d she get you?”  Ron asked, reaching out to flick one of the reindeer’s googly eyes on Harry’s chest.

“She bet me I couldn’t catch ten Snitches in ten minutes.”

Ron let out a bark of laughter.  “That’s it?  You’re getting old, Potter.”

“Well at least I don’t have green hair,” Harry muttered, finishing his mug of wine.  “You want another?”

“Yeah, all right.”  Ron handed him his mug as Rose thundered up to him, her face full of righteous indignation.  Harry left before she could open her mouth, certain that whatever had her wound up involved one of his own children.  Let Ginny deal with it.  

In the kitchen, he ran into Molly with several other local witches, the remains of what had been a massive biscuit platter on the table in front of them.  “Happy Christmas, Harry!” she said, taking in his ridiculous jumper.

“Happy Christmas, Molly,” he said, bending to give his mother-in-law a kiss on the cheek.  

One of the aged witches leaned forward, peering at the blinking red nose on the jumper.  “You look like you’ve lost a bet!” she cackled, giving him a toothless grin.  

“Indeed I did.  Now, if you’ll excuse me ladies, I need to get some wine to another loser.”

Over on the Discord, one of our members was requesting fics where Harry and Ginny meet at a bar. Here is my short piece on this theme.  Let me know what you think!

Harry drained the rest of his pint, raising a finger to the barkeep to signal for another.  “Ta,” he mumbled when the man set a full pint of Guinness in front of him and took away the empty glass.  

He fished around in the dish of snack mix in front of him, one eye on the telly showing a Premiere League game.  As he watched, one player fell to the ground, rolling around in what looked ike high theatrics even to Harry’s inexperienced eye.

“Oh, get up, you bloody wanker.”

Harry turned to see a woman at the other end of the bar.  She had long, dark red hair in a long plait down her back.  His eyes traveled down and he noted the sport bag on the floor by her seat.  Looking back up, he saw her looking at him, the corner of her lip curled in a smile.

“Hello,” she said brightly.  “Can I help you?”

Embarrassed by being caught staring, Harry cleared his throat and nodded to the TV.  “Why’d you call him a wanker?”

She gave him a cheeky smile and finished her cider.  “Buy me a drink and I’ll tell you.”

Charmed, Harry signaled the barkeep, watching as he pulled another pint of Strongbow.  The woman shifted over until she was sitting next to him.  She took an appreciative sip of her cider before gesturing to the game on the telly.  “See, he’s gone and done it again!  Watch the replay.”

Far more interested in watching the play of expressions on her face, Harry reluctantly turned his attention to the game, watching as the man in the red jersey fell to the grassy pitch, rolling over and gripping his knee.  “That bloke knocked him over,” he said, indicating the man in the white jersey looking on in disgust.

“He did no such thing,” she said, snorting in disgust.  “Look, they’re showing it again.”  They watched, Harry keeping an eye on the man in the white jersey as the man in the red fell to the ground once more.

“Oi, look at that!  He didn’t put a hand on him!  Won’t he get punished for playacting like that?”

The woman looked at Harry, amusement all over her face.  “You don’t watch much football, do you?”

“Nah, not really my thing,” he admitted.  He turned to face her and took a swallow of his nearly-forgotten pint.  “Harry,” he said, holding out his hand.

“Ginny.”  She gave his hand a firm shake, the corners of her brown eyes crinkling in another smile.  

“You look like you do sport,” he said, nodding towards her bag.

“Oh, I only do sport so I can do this,” she said, lifting her cider to her lips for another drink.  “What about you?  No, wait.  Let me guess.”  She narrowed her eyes at him and Harry sat up straighter, resisting the temptation to smooth his unruly dark hair.  “Jeans, boots, tee shirt and that plaid over it … construction worker?”

Harry let out a short bark of laughter.  “No, not quite.”

“I’m disappointed.  I’m usually good at guessing these sorts of things.”  She pursed her lips in a playful pout and he decided that he quite liked the look of it on her.  He was about to ask her to guess again when a chime sounded from somewhere inside her bag.  “Oh bother.  Sorry, got to go.”

She too one last sip of her cider before sliding off of the barstool.  “Thanks for the drink,” she said, swinging her braid off of her shoulder before bending to pick up her bag.

“Thanks for the explainer.  See you around?” Harry said, unable to keep the hopeful tone out of his voice.

Ginny shrugged and lifted an eyebrow.  “Maybe.”  Her eyes went back to the telly and she scowled.  The chime came again, sounding more urgent and she rolled her eyes.  “Leave it out!  I’m coming!”  She looked at Harry again.  “I’ve really got to go.  It was good meeting you, Harry.”

“Yeah, you too, Ginny.”  He gave a small wave and watched as she bustled out of the mostly-empty pub.  She opened the door and the sunlight outside hit her hair at the perfect angle, making it look like burnished copper.  The door closed and she was gone.

Harry sighed, turning back to his pint.  He wasn’t really interested in it anymore and he had only one more swallow before setting it back on the bar.  He tossed a few bills down next to it and nodded to the barkeep once more, getting a nod back.

Outside, the brisk wind fluttered the tail of his plaid shirt as he turned a corner into a dark alley.  A moment later he was walking through the halls of the Auror Department, heading to his cubicle.  Sitting down behind his desk, the surveyed the stacks of paper with disgust.  God, but I hate paperwork.

Just as he pulled the first pile towards him, a memo flapped its way into his cubicle, landing neatly in front of him.  Frowning, he unfolded it.  Two gold-stamped tickets to the next Holyhead Harpies game fell out.  Why don’t you come and watch me do a bit of sport? the note said.  Maybe you can buy me a drink after.  

Harry picked up the tickets and grinned.  A bit of sport indeed.  And we’ll definitely have that drink.

In the books, it doesn’t seem as if Harry has had very good experiences with dogs, so my HC is that he doesn’t particularly care for them.  Until he makes the promise that if James does well on his exams, they’ll get a puppy.  Careful what you promise, Harry!

Harry stared at the spotted, wiggling thing surrounded by his children.  They were full of squeals of delight, sounding remarkably puppylike themselves as they jockeyed for position.

The pup in the middle of the chaos didn’t seem to mind at all.  He was all mouth and wagging tail and flailing feet as he played with his new friends.  Harry frowned.

“They’re making a mess,” he grumbled, trying not to wince as the pup let out several high-pitched barks when James dangled a toy in front of him.

“They’re just excited,” Ginny said.  “They’ll all settle down soon.”  Harry looked up at her, seeing his children’s ecstasy at the newest addition to the Potter family mirrored in her eyes.

He looked at Stuart the cat, perched high on his cat tree, watching the proceedings with a skeptical eye.  “I know just how you feel,” Harry said to the cat.  

Ginny nudged him with her elbow.  “Try to be at leas a little happy, all right?  James did very well on his exams and you did promise.”

“I didn’t expect him to do that well,” he said, looking at his more athletically-inclined son.  

“Never underestimate a Potter when there’s a goal in front of him,” Ginny said.  Her voice was light but Harry did not miss the message in her expression.  Get with the program, Potter, it said, loud and clear.

“You know I’m going to be the one taking care of it,” he said, getting an eye roll in response.

“Dad!  We’re going to call him Sam!” James said, eyes shining with adoration as he held the excited pup to his chest.

Harry clapped with an enthusiasm he didn’t feel.  “Well, that’s an excellent name!”  Thank God it’s not Ripper.  “What do you say you take Sam out to the garden and see if he wants to do some business?”

The children hooted, Lily declaring that shewould be the one to carry the pup outside and that James and Allie had to guard the gates to make sure Sam didn’t wander away.  In moments, the lounge was deserted with only stray bunches of black and white dog hairs floating down to the wood floor.  On his perch, Stuart started washing his face.

Ginny sighed and stood up from the sofa, giving a mighty stretch.  “Well, I think that was a good introduction, don’t you?”

“Mm,” Harry grunted, standing up next to her.  He peered out of the French doors and into the garden.  The kids and the pup were all a blur as they raced around the back garden, already completely in love with each other.

“I always wanted a dog when I was a kid,” Ginny said, putting her arm around his waist.  “Mum and Dad said we couldn’t really afford it, though.  Had to make do with old Moggy in the garden.  She fed herself with the mice.”

“Well, I suppose he won’t get a big as Fang,” Harry said grudgingly, memories of being aggressively drooled on by Hagrid’s old boarhound coming to the fore.

“Come on, Grump.  Let’s get dinner together.  It’s a fine evening for eating outside, don’t you think?”

Later that night, Harry woke, sleep disturbed by some sort of high-pitched tone.  After a few fuzzy moments, he realized it was the puppy.  He looked over at Ginny and saw that she was still asleep and he knew that all of the kids would also be asleep, having inherited the Weasley’s uncanny ability to sleep through anything.

I knew I’d end up being the one to take care of it, Harry thought as he rolled out of bed, wincing at the chill of bare feet on the wood floor.  He quietly entered James’s room, the whining sound becoming louder.  They had decided that until the pup was solidly house trained that he would sleep in his crate, something that James had vigorously protested.  

Harry lifted the cover and beheld the puppy inside.  One blue and one brown eye looked back out at him, clearly glad to see him.  Opening the door, he gathered the pup up before he could shoot out of the crate, wishing he’d put on a shirt as the animal windmilled his feet in an effort to get out of his grip.

Barely managing to make it outside unscathed, Harry gently tossed Sam to the grass, watching with ill humor as he sniffed around the back garden.  He seemed to have lost all sense of urgency and Harry sighed, wondering if there was a spell that would make a dog do his business post haste.  He sat down in a garden chair and closed his eyes, nothing to do but wait until Sam decided to do what he needed to do.  

A sharp bark and a cold nose against his leg woke him and he opened his eyes to see Sam sitting in front of him, eyes bright in the moonlight.  The black and white spotted coat and the odd-colored eyes did look charming, he thought and he reached a hand out, smiling when Sam licked it.

Stroking the pup’s upright ears, he thought about the scene earlier that evening as James, Allie and Lily had all argued over whose room Sam was going to sleep in for his first night as a Potter, finally deciding to play rock, paper, scissors for it.  Thankfully, James had won fair and square, negating the need for parental involvement.  

“What are you doing out here?” Ginny asked, opening the French door.  “It’s cold.”

“Sam had some urgent business to take care of,” Harry said, scooping up the animal.  “And you Weasleys can sleep through anything, so it was down to me.”  He kissed Ginny on the nose as he went back into the house, Sam quiet in his arm.

“You like him,” she said as they went back up the stairs.  “Admit it.”

“He makes the kids happy.”  Harry avoided her knowing look as he put Sam back in his crate and lowered the cover.  

Back in bed, Ginny turned to him.  “You know, I’ve been doing some reading.  His sort tend to make good running companions.”

“Do they?”

“Just a little something to think about.  Good night,” she said, turning over with an air of finality.

Harry lay still, envisioning running in the Presidio, James and Sam at his side.  Well, I suppose this dog business might have an upside after all.

This is not strictly inspired by one of my prompts, but a long time ago, I’d chatted in the HarryandGinny Discord about writing a fic based on the Seinfeld episode The Contest.  I thought about it again today and thought, hey, this could make for a fun little short.  So here you go.  As always, let me know what you think and feel free to toss any prompt my way.

Ron

Ron sat squarely on the squashy chair in the corner, History of Magic book in front of him.  He’d have much rather have been in a more relaxed position, but being in a relaxed position generated the sort of thoughts he needed to keep a firm hand on.

A firm hand… he thought, eyes darting to Hermione.  She sat at the long table, chatting with Parvati as she scribbled on the parchment in front of her.  The light in the common room made her brown hair look a bit less frizzy and her skin luminous.  As he watched, she caught him, an electric thrill jolting him as their eyes met.

Damn, she does it every time!  I swear she’s got eyes … somewhere!  Hot-faced and frustrated, he tried to turn his attention to the history book as Hermione’s giggle carried over the murmur of voices in the common room.  Damn Seamus.  I never should have made that bet!

Harry

When one is making a Dreamless Sleep potion, it is very important that one is in the proper state of mind.  Only when in a state of calmness can the all important wand work take place; any hint of agitation will ruin it.

Agitation … there’s no way I could brew one right now.  Harry’s eyes cut over to the fireplace where Ginny was lounging on the rug with Demelza Robbins, Arnold the Pygmy Puff cradled in her hands.  Under the cover of his dark brows, he watched the little animal shiver in delight as she stroked its soft fur, wondering what those fingers would feel like in his hair, scratching along his scalp …

Prickles raced all the way down from the top of his head to his toes, making him jerk in surprise.  “All right?” Ron asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Yeah fine.  Just, uh, got a bit of a chill.”  Harry cleared his throat and focused on his potions book once more.  Damn Seamus.  I never should have made that bet!

Ginny

“And then you should have seen the look on his face when I told him where they reallycome from!” Demelza said, hooting with laughter.

Ginny couldn’t help but laugh along with her, careful not to squash Arnold in her glee.  “He didn’t know?  How can you get to be that old and not know!?”  She listened with half an ear as Demelza went on, idly stroking the pygmy puff.  She liked the soft fur and the way it felt against her skin and she found herself looking around the common room for Harry.

He was on one of the squashy armchairs by Ron, the both of them uncharacteristically sitting ramrod straight.  Even stranger, they both had schoolbooks in front of them.  Harry looked like he’d just swallowed a frog as he stared at his book and Ginny looked at him while appearing to still be engaged in conversation with Demelza.  

Fresh from the shower, his dark hair shone and she fancied that the highlights in it were purple.  As she continued to pet Arnold, she began to wonder how soft Harry’s hair was and what it would be like to touch it.  How would he react, she wondered.  In her hands, Arnold was practically vibrating, soft squeaks and coos emanating from … somewhere.  Where is a pygmy puff’s mouth anyway?

Dismissing the thought, she continued ruminating on the sorts of sounds Harry might make if his head were in her lap and she was able to run her fingers freely through the unruly thatch of his hair … Oh no.  No, no, no.  She wrestled her thoughts away from her and Harry in front of the fire, firmly fixing her mind back on her friend, forcing a laugh even though she had no idea what the last five minutes of conversation had been about.

Damn Seamus.  I never should have made that bet!

Hermione

“No, see—this is where you’ve got it wrong.  You needed to carry the one over the Aquarius,” Hermione said, scribbling out Parvati’s mistake on her Arithmancy homework.

Parvati sighed and shook her head.  “Hermione, I don’t understand how you keep that all inside of your head!  I’ll never remember all of these rule in a hundred years!”

Hermione smiled, pleased at the compliment.  “It’s just practice.  I find it fascinating, so I do some of it in my spare time.”

“Well, there are other things I’d much rather be doing in my spare time.”  Parvati grinned at her and tipped her head over to where Ron and Harry sat, books in hand for once.

Snorting, Hermione turned her eyes away from Ron, looking at her own Arithmancy homework.  “There will be plenty of time for that sort of thing after we leave school,” she said primly.

As she said it, she had a sudden vision of her in a cozy cottage full of books.  She was taking some well-deserved time for herself, curled up in an armchair with a cup of tea and one of the books.  A ruckus in the hallway made her look up and Ron came in, smelling of fresh summer air and grass.  His bright hair was mussed and his blue eyes crinkled at the corners as he looked at her.  

He’d just opened his mouth to tell her something when she felt a warning tingle on the back of her neck and looked up to see Ron looking her way.  She smiled when she saw the flush of blood spread under his skin as he quickly looked away.  Maybe that bet isn’t worth it after all.  It’s just 10 Sickles …

Just then the portrait hole opened and Neville stormed in.  Breathing hard, he walked quickly up to the table that Seamus was sharing with Dean and Colin.  “I’m out!” he said, dropping a fistful of Sickles on the table in front of him, the sound of the coins hitting the table making everyone stare.

Whirling, Neville marched up the staircase to the boy’s sixth year dormitory, school robes flapping behind him.

Well, Hermione thought, never thought he’d be the first to fall.  I wonder who’ll be next?

So I didn’t get to do any fun writing yesterday–it was all work all day and who wants that?  I did give myself a few minutes to do a quick thing from the following prompt:  Teddy collects Chocolate Frog cards.  What happens when he gets one with one of his parents?  As always, let me know what you think and if you got a prompt you’re interested in, send it my way!

“I’m home!” Teddy shouted as he slammed the door shut and raced upstairs to his bedroom.  He was only dimly aware of Ginny scolding him for making too much noise for the baby before he tossed his book bag to the floor and launched himself onto his bed, landing with a satisfying bounce.

“Oh, I’ve missed you so much,” he murmured, burying his head into his pillows.  After several moments of doing nothing, he sat up.  “Oh yeah!” he exclaimed, rolling off of the bed and hitting the floor with a thump.

He reached for his book bag, rummaging through all of the pockets before he finally found the packages of Chocolate Frog cards he’d traded for.  “All of this for two signed Hermiones.  Child’s play,” he gloated, greedily eyeing the sealed packages in his hand.

Back on his bed, he crossed his legs and ripped into the first one, nimbly catching the frog and shoving it into his mouth before it could get away.  He quickly sorted through the cards, putting each witch or wizard in their own pile and ripped open the second pack, carelessly tossing the packaging to the floor of his room.

“Another Morgana—why is she so common?  Oh, Marie Levau.  Uncommon for sure,” he said, mentally thinking of what he could trade for the Voodoo priestess.  The next pack yielded both a Harry and a Ron and he set those aside for signing, though a signed Harry Potter wasn’t exactly popular at school, mainly because Harry’s students had developed a bit of an aversion to his signature.

“Last one,” he said as he tore open the crinkly wrapper on the last package of cards.  He ate the frog and looked at the first card.  There, looking out at him was his mother.  

The image of Nymphadora Tonks that had been chosen for the card must have been from shortly after she made full Auror.  She stared out at the camera with a cheeky grin, her hair cycling through the colors of the rainbow.  Teddy looked at the image for several seconds, his breath caught in his throat as he struggled for the smallest shred of memory of the woman who had birthed him.  

The only thing that came was a small sigh as he set the card aside, quickly looking through and sorting the others.  A moment later he gathered them up, setting them in a neat stack in front of him.  Picking up his mother’s card once more, he turned it over and read the back, even though he had the words memorized.

Nymphadora (Tonks) Lupin was Britain’s only Metamorphmagus Auror.  A member of Hufflepuff house at Hogwarts, she went on marry Remus Lupin, a known werewolf.  Tragically killed at the Battle of Hogwarts with her husband, she is survived by her son, Edward Remus Lupin.

He got up off of the bed and went to his closet, reaching up to the old shoebox he had up on the top shelf.  Opening it, he was greeted with dozens of Chocolate Frog cards, all with his mother’s or father’s pictures on them as he added the newest one.  Quietly, almost reverently, he put the box back on the high shelf.  One more for the collection.

Today’s prompt comes courtesy of one of our Discord members who dropped the idea of kitty Harry.  Here is what I came up with.  Will I continue it?  Dunno, but for now it was a fun little exercise.  Always, let me know what you think.

Ginny walked down the pavement, head down and trying to keep as much out of rain as she could while carrying two heavy bags of shopping.  Glancing up, she saw her building was only a few steps away and walked faster, eager to be out of the damp.  As she passed by an alleyway, a flash of green caught her eye and she stopped, squinting into the darkness.

After a moment, she saw it again and realized that the green belonged to a very bedraggled black cat.  “Oh, no, poor puss,” she said, momentarily forgetting about the chilly rain as she squatted down to get a better look at the creature.

The cat looked back at her, slowly blinking its eyes once, giving the effect of it completely disappearing into the blackness of the alleyway.  She stretched her hand out to it, encouraged when it extended its nose towards her fingers before subsiding.  “Poor thing,” she crooned, extending a finger to touch it.  “You need someplace warm and something good to eat.”  

Making a decision, she stood up and picked up her bags of shopping once more.  “You stay here.  I’ll be right back.”  The cat only blinked in response and she hoped it wouldn’t decide to run off.  

Sure that no one was watching, she Apparated up to her flat and set down her bags on the kitchen worktop.  Not wanting to chance surprising a Muggle by Apparating back out, she ran down the stairs and back outside, the hood of her cloak falling down, exposing her dark red hair to the rain.

Back at the mouth of the alley, she peered into the darkness.  “Puss, puss, puss,” she called, keeping her voice high and sweet, remembering the standoffish mousers that used to live in the garden at the Burrow.  Just when she thought the cat had run off, she saw the bright green eyes once more and redoubled her efforts, squatting down and waving a finger in the air as she continued to call.

After what seemed like ages, the cat stood, untucking its tail from around its feet and giving a mighty arched-back stretch as it ambled towards her, looking for all the world like a member of royalty greeting a subject.  It paused in front of her, taking her in with those deapthless eyes before pushing on her outstretched hand with its head, rubbing its cheek along her finger.

“Oh, yes, there you are,” she said, keeping her voice low and even so as not to startle the animal.  She let it rub up against her hand until she was sure it would accept her active participation before stroking it from its ears to the base of its tail.  She could feel the animal’s knobby spine as she stroked it.  “Poor thing.  Will you come inside with me?  I have something good for you to eat.”  I hope.  I think I have a can of tuna or salmon or chicken or something.

She continued to stroke the little cat, smiling when it started to walk back and forth in front of her, butting her hand and giving a surprisingly loud purr.  Judging the time was right, she slipped a hand under the furry belly, pulling it close to her body before standing up.  The cat seemed to be content with this course of action, so she walked quickly to her building before it could change its mind.  

In her flat, she put the still-purring cat down on her kitchen floor, the bright lights allowing her to get her first good look at it.  It seemed like it was an adult cat but thin and didn’t seem bothered that it was now in her flat, walking grandly around the small kitchen and nosing the cabinet doors and drawers.  “Well, I’ve petted you, but I still don’t know what you are,” she said, peeking at its back end underneath the raised tail.  “Oh, well, I guess you’re a boy then, aren’t you?”

The cat let out a mrowr and rubbed his face on the corner of a cabinet as she stood up and began rummaging through her pantry, finally coming up with a can of salmon.  “I don’t suppose you care too much about sell by dates, do you?” she asked, scooping out about half the can onto a small saucer as he rubbed against her legs.

She set down the saucer and watched as the cat attacked the salmon.  After a few moments, she turned her attention to her own groceries and quickly put them away.  The sound of the saucer hitting the bottom of the cabinet caught her attention and she put the rest of the can on the plate.  This time, the cat seemed to eat slower, but he still cleaned the plate.

That evening, as she sat in her cozy flat with the wireless on low and a fire in the fireplace, she began to contemplate life as a cat owner.  She stroked his ears as he rumbled in her lap, his half-closed eyes showing only a bit of that remarkable emerald green.  “What am I going to call you?” she asked.  “What’s your name?”  The cat’s only response was a louder purr.

She cycled through several names, not satisfied with any until finally, “How about Harry?”  The cat in her lap looked up and stretched out his front legs, spreading the toes on his front feet before settling down once more.  “Mrah,” he said, making it sound like an agreement.

In the interests of being a bit more productive on here, I’ve decided that I’m going to try and do a few shorts a week.  Thanks to @thedistantdusk​ for the handy list of prompts from last year’s Incognito Elf fic exchange, I have a list of prompts to work from, but I’m always down for more, so if you got one, let me know.  

Today’s prompt is:  One of them is terrible at wrapping gifts. The other takes pity on them.  (This might be a thing that happens in my own house.)

Harry stared at the mass of ribbon, bows and brightly-colored rolls of paper in front of him and sighed.  “What’s the point of going through all of this bother if it’s all going to be ripped off again?” he grumbled as he picked through the rolls of paper.

He decided on one with grinning snowmen and playful penguins and unrolled what he figured should be the appropriate amount to cover up the puzzle toy he’d decided to give Teddy.  Cutting the paper with his wand, he laid the oddly-shaped box on the paper and wrapped it around, only to find that it was too small.

Heaving an aggravated breath, he unrolled more paper and repeated the process, only to find that now he had too much.  “Bloody hell,” he muttered as he tried to deal with the excess paper.  Several minutes later he had several thin strips of paper and a still unwrapped gift.

“Harry, where—oh dear.  Is this where you’ve been?”  Ginny came into the room and crossed her arms.  Harry noted the expression on her face hovered somewhere between pity and amusement and he frowned, feeling oddly mutinous.

“Listen, you told me that Ineeded to wrap at least one present so here I am,” he said, running his fingers through his hair in frustration.  “It’s just this is all so … fiddly and the package isn’t square and what am I meant to do with all of this … embellishment?”

He saw Ginny’s lips quirk and he knew that she was trying not to laugh which only made him more frustrated.  “Teddy’s going to look at it for two seconds and then attack it like a rabid wolf!  What’s the point?”

“Oh my love,” Ginny said, sinking down onto the floor next to him.  “The point is showing someone that you care for them.  You took the time to pick out this thing you thought they’d like and you took the time to make a nice presentation.”

“I didn’t even pick it out.  You did,” Harry mumbled as he watched her Vanish his mess.  

“That’s true, but that doesn’t matter right now.  Let’s get this wrapped, shall we?”  She took the roll of the snowman and penguin paper and rolled some out, laying the item on top of the paper.  Then Harry saw where he’d gone wrong—Ginny pulled the paper over the package before cutting it, neatly ensuring that she had the right amount.

“But what about that bit there?” he said, pointing out the diagonal corner of the box.

“We’ll handle that like this.”  Ginny took the paper and made what to Harry looked like an intricate origami-type fold and he shook his head.  In what seemed like seconds, the damned thing was wrapped up tighter than a drum.  “Now, what sort of ribbon do you think will go?”

Harry picked out a few colors he thought would go well and Ginny showed him how to make elaborate curls with his wand and the best way to make a bow stick onto the package.  “There, was that so bad?” she asked after the game was appropriately wrapped, ribboned and bowed.

“It was exactly that bad.”  Harry looked at his wife and smiled.  “Thanks for your help.”

“I couldn’t stand to see you suffer.”

“Hang on.  Were you watching?”

Ginny shrugged, her lips quirking in that trying-not-to-laugh way again.  “A little while maybe.”

Harry sighed and put his arm around her shoulders.  He nuzzled her neck, breathing in the scent that was uniquely hers.  “It’s a good thing I love you.”

“It’s a very good thing,” she said.  Turning her head, she kissed his forehead.  “Now, since Idid this one for you, you still need to wrap at least one on your own.  We’ll do an easy one.”  She handed him a book they had bought for Hermione about the history of wizards in the tropics.

Harry stared at the mass of ribbon, bows and brightly-colored rolls of paper in front of him and sighed.

Oh, Discord, you crazy jumble of people and ideas.  Once more I’ve been bitten by a mashup bug.  This time for Harry Potter and Austin Powers.  Ginny Shagwell?  Vernon “Fat Bastard” Dursley?  Romilda Vane as a fembot? What is Dr Evil planning on doing with Harry’s Felix Felicis?  Eh, I have no idea yet.  But enjoy this bit and let me know what you think.

Harry woke up from a sound sleep, feeling as if something weren’t quite right.  He lay still in his bed, listening to the sounds of the darkened flat.  The clock on his bedside ticked steadily, counting out the seconds until six am.  Not hearing anything unusual, the sense of wrongnesscontinued to irritate him and he got out of bed, careful to make no unnecessary sounds.  

Wand in hand, he pushed open his bedroom door and padded out into the hallway.  He paused halfway between his and Ron’s doors, straining his ears for anything out of the unusual.  The only thing he heard was his own breathing and Ron’s snores … Wait, Ron doesn’t snore.

Senses tingling, Harry put his hand on the doorknob to Ron’s room, and turned it slowly.  He winced at the small sound the catch made when it released and pushed the door open.  He was barely able to make out the figure of his best friend and roommate in the dim light and he ghosted forward, frowning at the louder snoring sounds.

He reached out for his friend’s shoulder and pushed softly.  “Hey, do you—”

Loud snorts cut him off as Neville sat up, staring up at Harry in confusion.  “Harry?  Was I snoring too loud again?  Sorry!” he mumbled as he lay back down, turning onto his side. In seconds, he was asleep once more.

Harry stood by Neville’s bedside, his skin fairly tingling with shock as he stared down at the sandy hair where bright red should have been.  In a daze, he walked out of the room, closing the door to the bedroom as was only polite.  In the lounge, he recorded more differences.  No telly.  A different sofa.  Carpet instead of hardwood floors.

“Right,” Harry said quietly to himself, tapping his wand against his boxer-clad thigh.  “I think a cup of tea is in order.”

So on the Harry and Ginny Discord, one of our users came up with an idea for a Harry and Ginny birthday fic challenge with a twist–we had to incorporate a random suggestion submitted by someone.  I was kind of worried because I already had an idea I really wanted to write and I’d pretty much figured everything out, but I didn’t know what my twist was going to be yet.  Rest assured, it all worked out.

Can’t Get You Out Of My Head

This little idea came out of some conversation on Discord and blew up a little.  Harry has been dragged to a networking mixer with Ginny and he learns a new term.

***

Harry stood with his bottle of American beer and tried to blend into the background.   God as my witness but I hate work parties, he thought, taking a sip of his terrible American beer.  He put his hand in his pocket, sorely tempted to pull his little device out for a distraction, but he’d been informed by Ginny that it would be very impolite to do so at a gathering such as this.

“All right?” Ginny asked, sidling up to him with a plate of nibbles to share.

“Yeah.”  Harry plucked a shrimp from the plate and shoved it in his mouth.

Ginny frowned at him.  “We’ve been here for ten minutes.  Give me an hour, all right?”  She sipped from her glass of red wine, casting a look at the group of men and women chatting by the bar.  “Look, there’s Ben,” she said, waving her hand over her head.

“Hello, my darling,” he said, bending to kiss Ginny on the cheek.  “And hello, gorgeous.”   Harry raised an eyebrow as Ben looked him up and down, resisting the urge to give his hips a little shimmy.   “Ginny, can I take him around and pretend he’s mine?” Ben asked, giving her a playful pout.

“Too late, love.  I’ve already introduced him around,” Ginny said, grinning over the rim of her wineglass.

“Yeah, she took me round and I met some heart doctors and such,” Harry said, gesturing this his beer to the room in general.  Ginny and Ben stared at him as if he’d just admitted to being an axe murderer.  “What?”

"Caridologists,” Ginny corrected.  

“They hate being called heart doctors,” Ben agreed, blue eyes big and round at Harry’s audacity. 

"Whatever,” Harry snorted.  He went to take a sip of his beer, but thought better of it.  I’ll get a glass of that red.

Ginny shifted her weight to one leg and looked at him through narrowed eyes.  “Should I call you an ex-cop, then?" 

"Erm … that’s not exactly accurate, is it?”

“Oh, him?  This is Harry.  He’s a teacher now, but he used to be a cop,” Ben said, grinning at Ginny.  

“Hey, that’s not exactly fair.  Listen, these guys, they work on people’s hearts, yeah?  Therefore heart doctor,” Harry said, starting to feel like he was being backed into a corner by his wife and her best friend.

“What if I called you an ex-investigator?” Ginny countered.

“Well, that’s closer,but still not—”

“It’s the title.  You liked being called an Auror.”

“It’s what I was, yeah.”

“And they like being called Cardiologists,” Ben said with a superior smirk.

Harry sighed, defeated by the both of them.  “Fine.  Point taken."  He turned to Ginny, affecting a haughty expression.  “You have an hour to gossip with these … cardiologists.”

“Oh,wellthen,” Ben said, linking his arm through Ginny’s.  “I guess we’d better get busy.  Sir Potter sounds a bit testy tonight.”

“He does sound a bit stroppy, doesn’t he?”  Ginny flashed him an impish smile before turning her back on him, sweeping grandly away with Ben.  

Harry watched them go, a small smile on his face until he realized that she’d taken the plate of nibbles with her.  He took another swallow of the beer and frowned.  “Well, I guess I’d better go be social with some cardiologists or … baby doctors or whatever,” he said, leaving the terrible beer on a nearby table.

So the very first HP story I wrote was Ron/Hermione and it kind of ended up launching my whole AU that I have going on.  I’ve always had a soft spot for these two crazy kids, but in my California Dreamin’ AU, they’re kind of like the safe couple that’s just chilling, doing their thing, raising their kids.  I’ve been wanting to do something more exciting with them for a while and a few weeks ago, I was driving home from work when Dido’s Sand In My Shoes came up on my iPod (yes, I still use an iPod).  That song is one of those that I know most of the words to through osmosis, but I’d never really listened to it, but I did this time and it really sparked an idea.

Picture this;  Ron is an Auror, but he’s sort of burnt out, maybe he kind of fucked up at work and is strongly encouraged to take a vacation.  So he does, lighting out for a small Caribbean island that has a decently-sized magical population.  While there, he runs into a woman that he knew only vaguely as the resident Gryffindor swot and uncovers a bit of a mystery.  Hijinks ensue and when he’s back … well, he’s still got sand in his shoes, doesn’t he?

I’m finishing up what I think is the last chapter of The Mona Lisa’s Smile and other than a few other one shots I have brewing, including a Harry/Ginny birthday challenge, I think this will be the next thing I work on.  I was having a conversation on Discord and and that conversation sparked this scene.  Let me know what you think.

***

Ron entered the dimly lit bar, taking a moment to appreciate the coolness after the blazing hot tropical sun outside.  Eyes adjusted, he checked out his surroundings, taking in the wood-paneled walls and general well-kept but shabby air of the place.  

Ambling up to the polished wood bar, he sat down on a leather-covered stool, surveying the bottles of liquor arrayed in front of a large mirror.  A moment later, a woman walked behind the bar, setting down an empty tray.  She had on a long, loose dress and her hair was hidden by what looked like a very elaborate headwrap.  “Good afternoon,” she said, her crisp British accent surprising him; he’d become used to the melodic Caribbean lilt of the locals.  “What can I get you to drink?”

“Hmm … I’ll have that Guinness,” he said, nodding to the tap.  He looked at the liquors again, eyes lighting up at the sight of one particular bottle.  “And a shot of that Russian Standard.”

The bartender’s eyebrows went up and she stood up on her tiptoes to reach way in the back for the bottle.  A moment later, he had a pint of Guinness and the shot of vodka in front of him.  “Not many people know about that one,” she said, pouring a shot for herself.  “You must have done some traveling.”

“A fair bit,” Ron said, picking up the shot glass.  “Na zdorovie,” he said, quickly downing the shot of vodka, savoring the burn of the alcohol.  He set the empty glass upside down on the bar, noticing the bartender still held her shot, looking at him curiously.  “What?”

“I just realized who you are.  You’re that Ron Weasley,” she said, finally downing her shot.

Surprised, Ron sat back on the stool and picked up his pint, taking a sip as he studied the woman in front of him.  She was a little bit shorter than average and tanned from the tropical sun he was currently avoiding.  Bright brown eyes and a rather thin-lipped mouth triggered a memory and he snapped his fingers.  “Hermione Granger,” he said, a jolt of surprise coursing through him.  “How did you go from Gryffindor swot to a bar in a Caribbean backwater?”

“Charming as always, Weasley,” Hermione said, quickly filling three more pints of Guinness for some men that had just walked in.

ophiuchusdecay:

wrender:

supportive-rapport:

trans-mom:

germicelli:

hes waiting by the microwave

WHYS THERE A METAL CUP IN THE MICROWAVE

NOOO LITTLE CAT DONT PUT METAL IN THE MICROWAVE