Ch.1

AN: a new day, a new story! I don't own anything HP. Enjoy!

Harry sat at his desk in the auror office. He was writing a report on the mission he went on the other week. Because writing reports are Harry's least favorite thing about being an auror. His second least favorite thing was when dark wizards didn't feel like being evil. How was he supposed to catch them if they weren't breaking the law? It's like they were trying to put him out of a job.

Just as Harry was polishing off his report, his best friend and brother in law, Ron, trudged into his office, collapsing in the chair across from the desk.

"Did you get your report done?" Harry inquired, although figuring he already knew the answer.

"No, I was assigned to guard Kingsley on his trip to Canada. So, I had to report to his office. I just got out," Ron explained.

"Why does Kingsley need protection?" Harry wondered out loud. "I mean, he did used to be an auror. You'd think he could protect himself."

"Yeah, but that's not what's on my mind," Ron admitted. Harry felt such a problem telling session deserved something to drink. He pulled open his bottom desk drawer where he held a secret stash of butterbeer and popped a couple of bottles open. He handed one of the bottles to Ron, who immediately took a swig.

"What's up?" Harry asked.

"You know Claire?"

"Kingsley's secretary?"

"Yeah, she won't leave me alone," Ron said.

"What do you mean? Does she pester you with ministry issues, or something?" Harry asked.

"No, she throws herself at me and keeps wanting to...you know," Ron said awkwardly.

Harry nodded, knowing exactly what Ron meant, "you know Ron, I have the exact same problem."

"You do?"

"Yeah. You see, Ginny and I have this neighbor and she always asks me if I have clean boxers on. It's as if she thinks Ginny can't wash my boxers clean. When in all reality, Ginny knows just how to take the stink of baby vomit out of them and make my undies smell like a rose garden," Harry look contemplatively up at the ceiling. He took a deep breath and swore he could still smell the rosey garden in his pants.

"What?" Ron looked at his friend incredulously. "I won't even ask how you got baby vomit on your knickers."

"It was at night. James managed to vomit over my shoulder, but it stuck to the back of my boxers. So, Claire wants to wash your undies, right?"

"No!" Ron paused, "who does that?"

"My neighbor," Harry said. He had a feeling he shouldn't have said anything.

"Your neighbor wants to wash your undies?"

"Yeah, but that's besides the point. What does Claire want from you?" Harry tooka swig from his butterbeer.

"What's on the other side of my boxers!" Ron cried out. "I told her I was with Hermione, but she won't listen. What do you think I should do?"

"Tell her to go away," Harry shrugged.

"You don't think I've tried that?"

"Well, try to scare her off," Harry suggested. "For instance, whenever some crazy fan girl tries to come onto me, I just tell her that my wife, on our honeymoon, encountered a tiger trying to eat me. I wasn't hurt because upon pouncing me, she jumped in front of the animal ripped the heart out of the tiger's chest. With her bare hands. Needless to say, they back off for fear of facing the wrath of Ginny Weasley."

"There are no tigers in Ireland," Ron stated.

"I know that and you know that, but fan girls don't know that."

"Brilliant! Wait, I'm pretty sure Claire knows that Hermione won't ever turn to violence," Ron added.

"She did attack Lavender with canaries."

"True, but that was five years ago. She's much mellower now."

"You can make her not interested anymore?"

"How?"

"Say you don't have anything," Harry noticed that he was experiencing one of his rare moments: when he has no idea the words coming out of his mouth.

"Oh really?" Ron inquired, "how do I justify that?"

"It was bit off, clean off."

Ron shook his head and waved his butterbeer bottle under his nose, checking for traces of firewhisky. He found none. "What are you saying?"

"You can say that while you were in Egypt all those years ago, your family went on a boat ride down the Nile. You were sitting by the edge when out of nowhere a baby crocodile leaps out of the water and tries to eat you. You jumped out of the way but the croc gets away with a piece of you," Harry explained.

Ron gave Harry a horrified look. He took a deep swig of butterbeer and decided to let what tiny amount of alcohol that was in his system, somehow cloud his judgement. He didn't know how Harry thought of these things, but he was sure he didn't want to know. He was married to his sister, after all.

"Does it work?"

"Sure. Why wouldn't it?" Harry reasoned.

"I'll try it!" Ron polished off his butterbeer and left Harry's office. "Thanks for the advice, mate!"

"Anytime," Harry leaned back in his chair. It's good to be Harry Potter.

AN: tell me what you think!