21 January 1998 — Voldemort's Nipple
Even after Ron came back, times in the tent were hard on them all. It was painful to be constantly alone with one's thoughts, which, at one time or another, was how they all felt. How would these last few months have been different if they had refused their mission? Surely, they told themselves, they were in the right? They had to keep fighting.
Hermione, grateful as she was for Ron's return, found herself finding it harder and harder to see the positive side of spending night after night freezing in the middle of a million different nowheres, making meals out of practically nothing, never feeling truly safe.
One night the tent flap was open; Harry was standing the first guard shift while Ron and Hermione slept. Or tried to sleep. Neither was having much success. Ron was examining the sword of Gryffindor with a kind of listless interest, while Hermione yet again perused the pages of The Tales of Beedle the Bard. She gave a small snort. Ron poked his head out and looked up at Hermione lying on her stomach on the top bunk.
"What's up?" he asked.
"Some of these stories are so funny," Hermione said with a slight smile.
Ron scoffed. "I'll bet you I can come up with something funnier," he said.
"That'll be the day," Harry called from outside. Hermione snorted again.
"All right, then," said Ron, now getting excited. "All right, here, I've got one." Hermione closed the book, looking down at Ron. Harry leaned closer to the open flap. "One day, way back when, good old You-Know-Who's walking down…walking down…erm…Tottenham Court Road! And he sees this one Muggle, who's all in black leather, and he's got all these…what do you call them? Pursings?"
"Piercings," said Harry and Hermione together.
"Right, right, piercings. Double piercings on his nose, and his eyebrows, and his ears, all over his face. And he's got skull tattoos and all that. He really looks like a monster, totally tough, cause he's got all these bits of metal hanging off him, right?"
Hermione leaned over the bunk to look out the tent flap at Harry, who, though he was staring away from them, keeping watch, was starting to grin.
Ron continued. "See, You-Know-Who, well, he wasn't used to Muggles looking quite like that. It was unnerving for him, right? And he thinks to himself, 'I've gotta do something, I've got to be tougher than that bloke.' So what does he do? He steps into a tattoo parlor, asks the man for a really tough-looking piercing, a triple piercing. But the Muggle in the shop, he's so afraid of the ugly old bastard, he's not paying attention to what he's doing, and—"
"Ron!" Hermione shrieked. Harry's laughter echoed outside, and for a long while they all lapsed into hysterics, not calming down until their sides were sore.
Even after Ron came back, times in the tent were hard on them all. It was painful to be constantly alone with one's thoughts, which, at one time or another, was how they all felt.
But things were much less difficult if one could only imagine the Dark Lord's nipple ring.
I was so surprised at the positive response you all gave me! Thank you very much, and special thanks to LVB, who is an awesome reader/reviewer! Hope you like this one, it makes me giggle.
Lucy