A/N: Well, I blame a song about corn for this. It's random and weird and... I am terrified, truly.

For my sister, Ana, Merry late Christmas!

I own not the world of HP.

Pumpkin Pasties

Harry had always loved food. He was no Ron, but he still loved food. But he hated one thing. Just one thing. And they were Pumpkin Pasties. Bloody Pumpkin Pasties.

Pumpkin Pasties this morning and Pumpkin Pasties tonight, Pumpkin Pasties for lunch and even Pumpkin Pasties the previous evening. He was sick, sick, sick of it!

When he returned for his eight year, he didn't expect the school to be like it was before, but he sure as hell did not expect that they would be eating Pumpkin Pasties this much!

Every morning the eight year boys, who chose to sit at their own table rather than disturb the rest of the school, would debate about they would be receiving for breakfast.

"Will it be lobster?

"Will it be caviar?"

"Is it stew?"

"Is it at least cooked?"

Harry knew they were aiming too high, but they had a right to, it was damn annoying to eat pumpkin pasties every single day!

The house elves trooped in, all carrying silver trays. Harry didn't know why the food didn't just appear on the table, like it always did, but he shrugged. A great breath of anticipation was drawn by the eight year boys. Harry lifted the lid carefully, and groaned.

One the silver plate was two dancing pumpkin pasties.

He got up, having lost his appetite, and decided to go eat his hat.

. . .

One day, and old-ish man, Mr Weasley, fell asleep beneath a tree in his garden. He stepped into his dreams with a shovel, having no idea why.

He saw a bight 'W' mark the ground, and he knew why he had the shovel. He started to dig, and dig, and dig, and what seemed like days in Arthur's dream but was in reality about five minutes, and he found a chest.

A fine, detailed chest, clearly a wealthy man's chest, it promised wealth and rubies and gold, countless numbers of precious things for him to make his family happy with.

With a start, he woke up. He groaned, realising it was all just a dream, he fetched a glass of water. When he returned, a shovel and the 'W' was back. He grabbed the shovel and started to dig, pinching himself to ascertain it wasn't a dream.

Molly tried to stop him, but after the first week she let him be. After the second week she wondered if he was all right, but he chose to enter the kitchen at that moment, a chest identical to the one in his dream.

He magicked it open after checking for dark curses. He opened it, and found… pumpkin pasties.

Arthur Weasley was not impressed.

. . .

Me and my lovely wife have just been marr ied, and what a splendid wedding it was!

When Luna, my wedding planner, informed me that the confetti had disappeared, I told her to get the butterflies, she said they'd all "flown" away (I have no idea if 'flown' is even a word, but Luna knows more than I do, and that word seems to fit her).

I then decided on doves, but according to her doves were bad luck - I will never understand that notion.

Flowers, leaves, frogs and fairy dust were also missing.

So, she resolved to... pumpkin seeds.

One good thing: at least it wasn't pumpkin pasties, I'd had enough of that to last me a lifetime.

. . .

A/N: Well... Merry late Christmas sis!