Written for Quidditch Leauge

Falmouth Falcons, Beater 2

Prompt: "Uh… no, thanks. No snip snip."

Optional Prompts:

(song) Run, Boy, Run-Woodkid

(object) Pendant

Harry Potter raked his fingers through his considerable mess of hair as he plodded through paper number 56 in the stack of 100 forms on his desk. According to Ginny, he wasn't allowed to do anything this week that might result in a black eye or unsightly face rash. Ugh. There was nothing he hated more than desk duty in the Auror's office. Well, besides haircuts, perhaps.

It was all Aunt Petunia's fault, really. She'd always made such a big fuss over his hair (and its uncanny ability to regenerate) when he'd been small, that he'd come to associate the activity with general unpleasantness. Which is why he had been resisting his wife's pleas to have it tamed into some sort of reasonable order before they had their portrait taken tomorrow afternoon.

He shook out the strand of fringe that had drifted onto his glasses, obscuring line 5A of the Unregistered Portkeys Form. Sure, in the Muggle world, shoulder-length hair that looked like you'd rubbed a balloon over it rather than a comb would be considered unprofessional. But Harry Potter was a wizard, and therefore could do with it what he liked, right? Right. He cringed at the memory of the fiery scowl Ginny had shot him when he had given her that argument last week.

Snip. Pop!

Harry blinked five times in rapid-fire at the noise; a noise not normally heard in the office on a Tuesday. Well, as Professor Moody would say, Constant Vigilance! Or, in other words, any excuse to get out of paperwork.

"Hey, Ron—did you hear that?"

Ron strolled around to the desk that sat pushed up against Harry's. "Hear what?"

"That—there was this popping sound, and—" A tiny warm body pressed up against Harry's calf. "AAAggghh! Something is touching me!"

Harry shoved his chair away from his desk and pointed his wand towards his foot space. Furrowing his eyebrows, he reached down and pulled up a large, long-eared rabbit. "What is a bunny doing under my desk?"

"That looks like a hare, mate."

"A—what?" He squinted at the tiny scarlet pendant dangling from the animal's neck. "Must be somebody's pet."

Ron peered over Harry's shoulder as he leaned in for a closer look at the inscription on the charm. "RW? Why does this rabbit have your initials around its neck? Is it take your pet to work day?"

Snip, pop.

Harry raised his eyebrows at the second brown rabbit that had apparated into existence at his feet. "What in Merlin's name?"

This rabbit also had a red pendant. Harry spun to hold it up to his friend, who hastily shoved his hand behind his back and tried to straighten out the smirk playing on his face.

"You know something about this. I've known you over half my life, Ron. There's no sense in lying to me."

Unfortunately, Harry's interrogation was interrupted by three sharp raps at the office door and a head of bushy hair wild enough to rival his own poking through the door frame. Hermione scowled as she spotted the two—no, three—rabbits hopping around Harry's feet.

"No fair! I thought we all agreed to wait until lunch."

Harry's eyes widened as Hermione approached him with a large pair of baby blue scissors. She brandished them menacingly at the strands of hair splayed wildly around his head.

"Uh… no, thanks. No snip snip," Harry said as he stepped backward towards his desk. Even years of Auror training hadn't prepared him for dodging hares while his two best friends threatened him with scissors.

He tripped over one of the furry creatures and fell backward onto the floor. "No, please—I'll go to the barber after work."

Hermione closed the scissors around a lock of his hair. As it fell from the blades, the hair turned into a hare sporting a baby blue pendant. "Did Ginny put you up to this? Whatever she offered you, I'll double it."

Ron had produced several rabbits by standing behind Harry's hairy head and clipping off large chunks while the boy-who-was-livid struggled to stand. "Sorry, Harry," he said. "It's not just about the 1,000 galleon reward. It's about the bragging rights."

"Really, it was about time we had an intervention. It would have changed into snakes and turned everyone to stone if you didn't do something to tame it," Hermione said.

Harry had finally found his footing when Aurors Finnegan and Thomas rushed into the room, baring green and yellow scissors. "Not you, too!" Harry groaned.

"That's right. Time to make Harry less hairy!" Dean said, advancing with scissors drawn.

"You could say Harry's hair will be hares if he stays around here!" Seamus reached out to his partner for a high five.

"Hear, hear!" said Dean.

"Puns? Really? Those are terrible." Harry backed slowly towards his desk until his hands met the edge. On his desk was his wand, and if he could just find it—aha!

"Expelliarmus!"

Harry dodged several pairs of colorful scissors flying towards him as he flew out the door. It was time to run.

Ministry employees turned to gape at him as he ran down the hallway towards the floo, some of them bearing shears of their own and hopeful expressions. Not today. Harry was running for the hills.

The sound of a stampeding herd followed him down the corridors of the Ministry; a rowdy barber parade seasoned with the sharp slice of steel on steel and the soft padding of tiny bunny feet. Oh, he was going to get Ginny for this one. As soon as he broke away from the amateur hairdresser's society and made the bunnies disappear into the trees where they belonged, he was going to charm his hair pink for the portrait tomorrow. That would show her.

He felt a cold blade of steel brush against his ear as he paused to dip his hand into the floo powder next to the Ministry's long rows of fireplaces. "Hagrid's Hut!" he shouted as soon as he scooted to a stop in the fireplace.

As he spun through the network to Hagrid's officially-off-record and maybe-slightly-illegal floo connection, he breathed a preemptive sigh of relief. If anyone would know what to do with the creatures following him around, it would be Hogwarts' gamekeeper.

"Hagrid," he panted as he stepped onto the half-giant's scruffy wooden floors. "You'll never believe the day I've had." Harry's entourage of furry friends hopped out next to him; he had to shuffle his feet along the floor to avoid catching a furry tail under his standard-issue Auror's boots.

"Alright there, Harry? C'mere. You look like you could use a hug." Hagrid held out his enormous beefy arms; they felt just like Harry's childhood as they wrapped around his back and… up to his hair?

"There, there, Harry—jus' hold still, jus' a minute more—"

Snip, popopopopopopopopop.

"Oh, no, not you, too!" Harry struggled against the cage of Hagrid's embrace, but the man was ten times stronger than he was, even with the strenuous Auror work-out program.

By the time Harry remembered his self-defense techniques, dropped his weight to the floor and rolled back to the floo, there were at least twenty additional rabbits with muddy brown pendants tailing him.

"Grimmauld Place!" he said the moment he managed to duck into Hagrid's fireplace. Time to stop running and cut his losses—who knew who else had been recruited into this hare-brained scheme?

When he stepped out into his living room on the other side, Ginny burst out laughing. The herd of hares had materialized along with him and were now hopping out onto the Persian rug.

"Oh, Harry—"Ginny's laughter was so overpowering, she could barely force the words out. Lilly turned to look at her mother in outraged shock from her place on Ginny's lap. "It's even worse than before! You're going to have to—ahahahahahaha—shave it bald."

Harry rolled his eyes and stomped over to the mirror that hung on the wall in the entryway. He lifted his fingers to touch a particular spot in his mane that had been cut nearly to the skin of his head.

"Well, I'd guess I'd better take inventory. Looks like I have a bet to settle." Ginny waved her wand at the rabbits, causing them to group themselves by the color of the pendant hanging around their necks.

"Daddy!" Harry whipped his head around to see little Albus' eyes grow wide at the sight of his outrageous new haircut and the rabbits in their little groups on the floor. In the end, the rabbits won out and he scrambled to pet their soft fur.

"Ginny. Please tell me I'm not the new owner of two dozen bunnies."

"Of course not. They're only constructs—they'll vanish as soon as the bet's been settled and I lift the hex on your hair." She turned to Albus, who had buried his face in fur. "So don't get too attached."

The floo roared to life, admitting Hermione, Ron, Dean, and Seamus in a fit of spitting flames.

"Have you counted, then? I won, didn't I?" Ron stepped forward towards the red-labeled bunnies and began to count.

"Sorry, Ron. It looks like Hagrid was right—Harry ran there before he came home. He's managed 21."

The next day, Harry arrived with his wife and three children at Wanda's Wizarding Portraits with a brand-new buzz cut. He grinned at the photographer as he plotted his revenge and held on to the small comfort that his hair had always grown quickly. Tomorrow would be another day.

AN: Thank you to my wonderful teammates who beta-read this story for me, and to my husband for this plot bunny.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter