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See disclaimer in Chapter 1. Not mine.

The prompt is from Digitallace. Notice I didn't thank her nicely for it, as I have the others. That's because this is a Prompt of Doom and the mere thought of the words makes me … vomit-y. *glares at Digitallace*

That said, go check out her treatment of the same prompt at: http://www . fanfiction . net/s/5684416/7/A_Dribble_A_Drabble

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Prompt: Moist sock *shudders*

"… dreamt of doing that with Fleur!" Harry heard Hermione shout the moment he stepped out of the Floo.

Rose had Firecalled him a few minutes ago, which was standard protocol when her parents were in the middle of a blazing row. Now he was there with Draco and Neville, who had shown up at their door unannounced just minutes before Rose's call.

"So what – I should have lied?" Ron roared, and Neville flinched at the sound of crockery crashing.

"You should not have sexual dreams about your sister-in-law in the first place!" Hermione screamed back, this time throwing a pot, from the sound of metal clanging against wood.

"I'll take them to Rose's room," Draco said, urging the two wide-eyed children toward the stairs.

Harry nodded, noticing Neville's stricken expression. They hadn't had a chance to talk about why he'd dropped by before Rose's call, but he couldn't worry about that now.

"I can't control who I dream about, Hermione," Ron bellowed.

"You didn't just dream about her, Ronald!" Hermione shrieked. "You woke up covered in –"

Harry snorted, finally understanding the extent of Ron's problem.

"Oi, sure, laugh," Ron snapped at Harry, his arms still crossed tightly across his chest. "Like you've never woken from a dream with a moist c–"

"What's moist mean, Uncle Draco?" Rose piped up, her head tilted inquisitively. Draco shrugged apologetically from the doorway.

"– sock," Ron finished lamely, his anger fizzling.

Harry stifled a laugh, clapping him roughly on the shoulder.

"Best to not address any future problems with … moist socks in front of the children, mate," he snickered.

Hermione glared at both of them, slamming a bottle of milk onto the counter.

"It won't be a problem. His sock won't be moist for a very long time," she spat.