Run, Harry!
"Harry!"
"Oh, crap," he thought. This day was not going to go as planned if he couldn't get out of here. Hermione knew all of his tricks and probably the ones he hadn't thought up yet as well. Harry jerked to the side and cast a pleading look at the other person in the room.
"Well, don't just stand there giggling like a little girl! Help me!" he hissed at Ron Weasley, who held up his hands. He was sitting in a quite comfortable-looking chair by the window and didn't seem to be worried in the least about any possible repercussions from whatever was bothering Hermione.
"Oh no, mate," the redhead chortled. "I'm here as a distraction, remember? I have nothing else to do with this. After all these years, I know better. Good luck!"
From somewhere deeper in the new Burrow, there came a noise that sounded like a stumble and something falling with a crash. The imprecations that followed sounded severe and promised… well, Harry couldn't think of a good word right then. He hustled out of the laughter-filled room, still thinking and wondering what do about his traitorous best friend.
Retribution. That's it. That's a good word. Now to escape.
The back door was identical to the destroyed Burrow's back door, and he shot out of it. If past experience was any indication, he was in more trouble than he'd ever been. He'd only heard that note in her voice a few times but it promised him painful lessons every time. Lessons that he'd had to attend and get Outstandings on, or repeat until learned. The instructor was a harsh taskmistress, he knew.
His feet slapped the ground as he jumped off the small porch and he heard a familiar voice ahead of him.
"Hey, Scarhead, got problems? Again?"
"No time to talk, Ferret!"
He blazed by the swing hanging from one of the larger trees, where Ginny sat snuggled into Draco Malfoy's side. It was still such a shock for the family to have discovered the youngest Weasley had made this connection, but it seemed to be working out very well.
Ginny watched him tear off into the depths of the orchard and turned to Draco.
"What do you think he did this time?"
The blond shrugged and pulled her closer.
"Creased a page in a book, misplaced any of twenty-five hair ties, she found out about the stripper George sent him for that prank, stole her cookies from dinner last night, who knows?"
"Who knows, but I bet I could think of a thing or two. Ron can't stop laughing about it. Look at him."
Indeed, he could be seen through the window. Harry's best mate's face was red and he was gasping for air as he slapped his knees. They could hear him as the door slowly swung shut. Draco's voice was musing.
"The stripper was a good prank though and stacked like… well. Never mind how well," he corrected himself as Ginny mock-glared at him. "He didn't know where to look or what to do with his hands especially after that lapdance. I thought he was going to pass out from a sugar high when she smeared that cake frosting on her…"
Ginny interrupted quickly.
"And got it all over his face and glasses. I heard about it. Wonder who could have mentioned it to her? And in such great enough detail to rile her up?"
Draco smirked. The angelic look of innocence was a bit lopsided.
"Who indeed? Obviously not him. Last I knew, she was leaving with Neville and Hannah. Come to think about it, has anyone heard from them?"
She shrugged. They turned back to their interrupted conversation/snogging session and Harry hid behind the largest tree in the back yard. He didn't know Crookshanks had leisurely followed him. It was quite an exciting time for Harry later when Hermione was directed where to go by her furry minion.
No one owned up to the cake frosting part, and after the honeymoon Harry had no clue whose idea it had been. His thoughts on that matter had been replaced quite completely. Hermione had a self-satisfied smirk on her face for weeks afterward and no one knew why either or frankly was brave enough to ask, either.
However, sales of cake frosting went through the roof afterward. Neville and Hannah had standing orders.