Pale moonlight was creeping in through the windows of the small flat that Harry Potter had been calling home for the past few months, it washed the mix-matched furniture and assorted paraphernalia of daily life. A peaceful stillness hanging in the air that, while awake, still caused Harry some degree of alarm; he had yet to dispel all of his nervous twitches gained from the war, and a life of waiting for the other shoe to drop. And be to perfectly fair some things just never change . . .
If Harry had been awake to hear the doorknob of his front door rattle, as someone tried to force entry with a hair pin at one o'clock in the morning, he most likely would have heaved a sigh of resignation and drawn his wand, ready to get the first strike in. Luckily for this particular late night prowler, Harry Potter was having himself a rather deep sleep.
A quite click had the lock sprung and a rather irate, bushy haired shadow slipped into the dark flat, closing the door with another, sharper click, immediately wincing at the noise. The shadow held still for a moment, holding its breath, but nothing and no one stirred inside the flat. Relaxing, the shadow crept further into the flat, peeking into the kitchen, sitting room, and bathroom as each were passed. All were empty. When the shadow came to the bedroom where Harry was passed out across his bed, mostly dressed and on top of the blankets, the door was pushed open, letting a sliver of moon light to fall over the shadow revealing the much mollified Hermione Granger.
Hermione leaned against the door frame, watching her friend sleep the sleep of the utterly exhausted. He was dead to the world, and she briefly forgot her pervious anger in watching his chest rise and fall.
"Hey, Har," Hermione whispered, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth "Don't mind me, I'm just going to hang out and raid your kitchen for a bit."
Harry kept right on sleeping, offering no protest, so she took it as consent to help herself to any and all chocolate frogs she may find.
"Thanks, knew you wouldn't mind."
Hermione closed his door over and tip toed into the kitchen, lighting a few candles with her wand. A few minutes of rummaging reviled Harry's dire need of a shopping trip, or more likely, his dependence on Molly Weasley to feed him, as they cupboards were very nearly bare.
She managed to find all the necessaries for a rough sandwich, and was tucking into it when the front door snapped open, admitting a small red headed whirl wind into the flat.
"Hullo luv," Ginny said, rummaging in her bag, "I hoped you'd still be – " She finally looked up seeing Hermione blinking at her mid bite of her sandwich.
Ginny took in the rest of the kitchen with a sweeping glance, took a look over her shoulder at the rest of the dark flat, then looked back to Hermione, "Where's Harry?"
Hermione swallowed, hiding her mouth with one hand, and pointed over Ginny's shoulder, "Sleeping."
Ginny's eyes narrowed; she pulled her hand out of her bag, fingers curled around her wand, which she flicked in the direction of the front door and locked it "A little late to be making house calls isn't it?"
Hermione huffed quietly, picking at the crust around her sandwich "You can blame your brother for that."
One fine ginger eyebrow arched upward and Ginny snorted, "I have six brothers, Hermione, you'll have to narrow it down for me."
Hermione smiled tightly, as Ginny crossed the kitchen to lean against the counter next to her and snagged a pickle out of the open jar she'd left out, "The stubborn, annoying one."
"I said narrow it down, not describe my whole bloody family."
"The tall, stupid one."
Ginny swallowed, and took another bite, thoughtfully chewing for a moment "So, we've eliminated Fred, George and Charlie."
"Ron, Ginny, I'm talking about Ron!"
"Ahh, what's the git done this time?"
Bang, bang, bang, bang.
The two women just about swallowed their tongues as they jumped a foot in the air. They exchanged wide eyed glances as the knocks on the door continued to sound urgently.
"You don't think -?" Hermione asked, looking as though she'd really rather not know.
"Well, it would make sense." Ginny nodded sagely "Where would a guy go if his fiancé does a runner?"
"Gin – "
"Why, to his best mates, of course!"
"I did not do a runner!"
"You'd best answer the door."
"I'd best not! He'll want to know why I, um . . . "
"Did a runner?"
"Shut it. The point is we'll just start a row and wake the whole building."
"Not to mention Harry."
"You answer it."
"Yeah, that'd go over well. Shall I strip down to my knickers and pull on one of Harry's shirts, just to really get him going?"
"Actually, that's not a bad idea."
"Come again?"
"Forget the shirt though, get some of his pants, then Ron will just have an aneurism and solve both our problems."
Both young women shoved their fists into their mouths, attempting to stifle a fit of brutally ungraceful giggles, until a particularly loud knock had them huddling by the fridge, throwing shifty glances towards the door.
"What are the odds he'll just give up?" Ginny whispered, still peering around the fridge.
"You know I can hear you in there, right?" A distinctly male voice called through the door; male, but most definitely not Ron.
"Is that - ?" Hermione breathed, taking a half step forward.
Ginny darted around her, yanked the door open, pulled the rather startled man on the other side into the flat, and shut the door with a sharp snap.
"Whoa! Easy there Gin-Gin!" George whined, smoothing his abused shirt where his sister had latched onto him "This is brand new!"
"Don't call me Gin-Gin." Ginny snapped on reflex, throwing a mock punch at her oldest brother "You nearly gave us a heart attack!"
George waggled his eyebrows in what he would've called a leer if it had been directed at anyone besides his baby sister.
"What's the matter Gin-Gin?" He cooed "Afraid of getting caught doing the nasty?"
"Hardly." Ginny snorted.
"Where is the little bastard anyway? Making his girlfriend answer the door; downright shameful that is!" A thought seemed to strike George that morphed his not-a-leer into a bizarre combination of mirth and nausea "Unless you've left him with a little problem back there . . . in which case, it may just be for the best."
"You have a dirty, dirty mind George Weasley." Hermione called from the kitchen.
George's eyebrows shot straight into his hair line, and he very nearly tripped over his shoe laces in his haste to get around the corner and into the kitchen. Hermione had hopped up onto the counter, and was swinging her legs innocently over the edge, careful not to bang the cabinets.
He narrowed his eyes at her accusingly "Do you realise your fiancé is loose down town?"
"Loose down town, huh?" Hermione chuckled "Guess he figured out I'm not listening to him anymore."
"Guess so." Ginny huffed, turning back to her older brother "Did he corner you after this one did a runner?"
"I did not!"
"Tried to is more like." George chuckled, ignoring Hermione's indignant outburst "Figured I'd come get some back up before I tried to corral him."
"Oh? Is he that upset?"
"I dunno. But if it's got him out wandering the streets at," George made a bit of a show checking his watch, holding his wrist out and squinting to read it "nigh on two in the morn, then it probably warrants back up."
"You don't need back up," Hermione grumbled ruefully "just a tad more patience than I have to spare at the moment."
George and Ginny shared a look, where in George cocked an eyebrow and Ginny shrugged while Hermione slapped the remainder of her sandwich onto the counter.
"Trouble in paradise, then?" George asked, nodding wisely.
"No," Hermione snapped "he just kept going on about seating arrangements, and guest lists, and – "
"Wait," Ginny cut in, fighting back a grin "you're fighting about the wedding?"
"No!" Hermione groaned, sliding off her perch and all the way down to the floor so she was sitting with her head resting on her knees "Can't really call it fighting when I didn't say anything; can't get so much as a word in edgewise."
"What's the matter," George cooed at her "not feeling the marital bliss?"
Hermione lifted her head long enough to glare daggers at her brother-in-law-to-be before dropping back down to mutter angrily to her navel.
"Oh, stuff it George." Ginny said, coming to the rescue "You're just jealous Ron asked her to marry him before you could!"
George snorted, then shot a sly glance down at Hermione "From where I'm standing it looks like the blushing bride wishes I had asked her instead."
"No, it's not that." Hermione sighed, lifting her head and letting it thump back against the counter "I am excited about the wedding, and lord knows I love the man, but . . . I swear to god if he changes the flower order one more time I'll – " she finished off with a violent shaking motion of both fists clenched around an invisible, and suspiciously neck shaped object.
The two Weasleys stifled understanding laughter as their newest sister watched despairingly.
"Don't worry Hermione," Ginny said, still grinning "we'll sick mum on him later. She'll – "
The door was flung open with a muffled crash as a lanky brown haired man stumbled into the apartment, nearly by passing the kitchen full of doe eyed spectators, who all seemed to be holding a rather guilty breath.
"Uh, hello," Neville mumbled, awkwardly rubbing at the back of his neck "is Harry around . . .Hermione? There you are!"
"Eh, hi Neville." Hermione called dazedly from the floor "Did you need me for something?"
"Well, yes, actually." Neville said, exasperation darting across his broad face "I'd really appreciate it if you'd go get Ron the hell out of my house, please."
A terribly guilty silence met his request; though, it didn't last long. The odd turn of events struck George as particularly funny.
"It amazes me that Harry is still sleeping." Ginny said shaking her head bemusedly.
"No kidding," George hiccupped through the last of his chuckles "with the racket we're making-!"
BANG!
George chocked on his tongue, as everyone else froze. They listened as the doorknob rattle violently, hoping it wasn't who they all thought it was . . .
"Harry? Harry, open up!"
A collective moan went through the group.
"Great," Ginny huffed, as Ron continued to holler through the door "Now what do we do?"
"Everybody get behind the couch." George said, pulling out his wand.
"What are you going to do?" Hermione asked nervously as Ginny pulled her down onto the floor behind the couch they'd been sharing a moment ago, and the others shuffled around to join them.
"Who, me?" George grinned, taking cover himself, "Why not a thing! I thought we'd let Harry deal with dear Ronnikins."
Ginny and Neville snorted and George reversed the charm on Harry's door just as Ron gave a particularly loud shout.
"OI! Harry! Open the fucking door!"
It was almost a minute and a lot more swearing on Ron's part later that Harry's door crashed open, and Harry himself stumbled out, wand in hand and sans glasses.
Harry tripped over to the door, fumbling with the lock, and scrubbing at his eyes with the back of his hand. As soon as the lock clicked open Ron shoved his way in and four extra occupants of the living room ducked down out of sight.
"Took you long enough; you're unbelievably hard to get a hold of, you know that?" Ron said gruffly continuing on into the kitchen, immediately picking up Hermione's discarded sandwich and taking a bite.
"Wha didja neeme fer?" Harry asked, belatedly noticing that he hadn't been entirely coherent and thinking he should probably have another go at it, but Ron seemed to get the idea.
"I'm just not sure about the whole color scheme thing," Ron said thickly around a bite of sandwich, watching Harry search his person in vain for his glasses, he pulled out his own wand and pointed it at Harry's bedroom, "Aicco Harrys' glasses." The glasses came zooming out and Ron caught them one handed.
Harry murmured his thanks and slid them on his face, still looking only half conscious and distinctly wrong footed. Nonetheless, Ron continued right on with his rant as Harry came to join him at the counter.
"I mean, I'm sure it'll look fine and all but I just don't think we should commit to it just yet, you know?" He waited for Harry to agree, got a grunt in reply and went right on going "Well, Hermione thinks we should just leave it as is, but what's the harm in looking?"
Harry had ceased trying to keep up with his freckled friend; he was still trying to get his brain to catch up with the rest of him. He didn't even know what time it was, he was sure he'd set an alarm for seven . . . had he slept right through it? He didn't think he'd been that tired last night. Where on earth was his watch, it seemed awfully dark . . .
"And Hermione wants the tables set in a kind of spiral pattern, but it reminds me of a spider web – " Ron was saying as Harry located his watch by the sink. Ron didn't even seem to notice Harry left his side to retrieve it. He failed to cover a wide yawn as he checked it, 2:30 AM. What?
"She says she doesn't see it and Mum recons I'm just imagining things but I still say –"
"Ron," Harry cut in abruptly, finally accepting that his watch wasn't lying to him "do you know what time it is?"
Ron looked slightly taken aback for a moment, but shook his sleeve back regardless to consult his own watch "Umm, I've got half two."
"In the morning, yeah?"
Ron blinked, looked down at his watch again, then back up at Harry, who was looking much more awake now "ugh, yeah."
Harry stood stone still for exactly thirty four seconds, then quite suddenly pointed at the door, "Get out."
"What?"
"You heard me! Get out! It is half two in the morning, and I am not putting up with this shite at half two in the morning. Go away, and don't come back till it's a decent hour, yeah? I don't even want to think about you or your bloody wedding till at least ten! Get out!"
Ron still hadn't moved by the end of Harry's impromptu tirade, he stood staring at his friend as though he'd been replaced by some sort of demon, and Harry decided to take a more proactive route. Dropping his watch back onto the counter Harry grabbed Ron's arm and hauled him towards the door, wrench the thing opened, threw his best friends fiancé out, and slammed it shut again leaving a stunned silence and a newly exposed George in its wake.
Harry very nearly turned away without noticing the man standing pressed up against the wall, but a nervous twitch of Georges shoulder caught his attention, and he stared open mouthed at him for a solid ten seconds before shaking himself.
"No." He said, rubbing at his eyes under his glasses "Just, no." Harry waved one hand in Georges' general direction as he stumbled back to his room.
George stayed rooted to the spot until Harry had shut himself back into his room, then tip toed out into the living room. The tops of three wide eyed faces peeking over the edge of the couch greeted him, and he shot them a winning smile.
"Ta – da!"
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