A/N: I absolutely loved "Help! The Butter Dish is Attacking Me!" and couldn't help but wonder how all that looked through Harry's eyes. Holly has been kind enough to give me permission to try and put my strange imaginings based on her story down in writing, so here goes:
Chapter One
Hot Buttered Redhead.
I couldn't stop laughing. I didn't want to laugh. I probably shouldn't have laughed, but I couldn't help myself. It hadn't been a very good morning. I was thanking everyone from Merlin to Salazar Slytherin's favorite house elf's third cousin twice removed that the Weasley twins knew their stuff, because I sure needed their hangover cure that morning. Before you ask, no I hadn't been drinking the night before, at least not on purpose. I had had Terry Boot and his cousin over for dinner. What Terry had failed to tell me was that his cousin was female. And American. And LOUD. She sounded exactly like that muggle woman on one of those television programs Dudley used to watch all the time. If you're muggleborn, you probably know the one, where the rich guy gets this obnoxious loud woman to be nanny to his kids…
Anyway, about thirty minutes into dinner I started getting a major headache. On the pretext of getting up to get something Dobby had forgotten to bring to the table, I snuck into the bathroom to have a sip of Ms. Whirlybang's Headache Potion. I could still hear her through the bathroom door, and thought to myself "It will never be enough," and slugged down half the bottle. Big mistake. BIG mistake! I called for Dobby and begged him to get rid of Terry and the amazing mouth anyway he could. But that didn't stop me from losing all control a second later and stumbling out of the bathroom and informing Terry and his cousin that I could not stand people who shouted when they didn't have to. Problem was, I did it at the top of my lungs. In a slurred voice that sounded like I'd downed a bottle and a half of Old Ogden's in one slug. Then I began to tell Terry's cousin why she wasn't good enough as Dobby was ushering them to the door, apologizing profusely that "Harry Potter is ill, he mustn't have company, sir and miss will please leave and have a good night."
I remember very little about the rest of the night, except for screaming something about Ginny and how I was afraid she was going to bat-bogey me until my nostrils exploded.
So when I got up this morning I downed one of Fred and George's hangover cure potions and flooed over to the Burrow to ask Ron how angry Terry was with me.
I had learned how to floo correctly, really. I mean it. I never fell out anymore; I stepped out with dignity and grace. Except now. I saw Ginny, and all the fear that she was going to make my nostrils explode with flapping bogeys came slamming into my brain and I went tumbling out of the fireplace face first. I couldn't remember for the life of me why I thought she was going to hex me, but I didn't want to take any chances. "Hey, Gin." I said in what I hoped wasn't too frightened a tone. She stuck her elbow in the butter dish as she stared at me, turning red. As anyone who knows the Weasleys can attest, one of them turning red is almost never a good sign, it tends to mean a lot of pain for someone, and soon. She just kept staring. I hoped I wasn't going to have to go to St. Mungo's to have my nose repaired, but I couldn't just stand there. "Gii-iin? Anybody home?"
She squeaked. I hadn't heard her make that noise since second year. I started to wonder if it meant she was falling for me again, then I noticed that not only had she squeaked, she had jumped. And fell backwards. The butter dish landed on her face. I couldn't help it, I laughed. Then I noticed how red Ginny was getting and I tried to stop laughing. I couldn't. I was doubled over holding onto a chair trying to stop laughing, crying from the exertion of that and the fear that large flapping snotbats were about to rip my face apart- and all the while trying not to think the erotic thoughts that the redhead covered in butter was inspiring. As soon as I could breathe, I asked her what it was about her and butter dishes, hoping she wasn't a legilimens. I looked at Molly Weasley's clock, told Ginny goodbye, and flooed off to the ministry in search of Ron, because I now had more to talk to him about than Terry Boot and the loud Brooklyn accent that he called a cousin. Besides that, I wanted to get out of there before Ginny could get to her wand and put me in St. Mungo's.
A/N: Don't know when I'll get the next bit done, I'm shooting for about a week, but no promises.