Happy 16th... Everyone that reads this, I want you to review it and wish Megan a Happy Birthday. If you don't, I'll ... sic Dobby on you, and damn, lemme tell you... Hermione says he's a mean little bastard when he's horny.
This is dedicated to MEGAN... HAPPY BIRTHDAY!
Enjoy the first humour fic I've ever written,
Aimée
"You know, I'm just sick and tired of hearing all these people talk about me. It's always 'Harry this', 'the Boy Who Lived' that…" Harry sighed, leaning back into the padded red booth, gazing over at his best friend. "Can't they ever get a life and leave me alone?"
"I suppose not, Harry." Ron answered, eyeing a stripper on the other side of the popular wizarding club they were currently enjoying themselves in. "The thing they've got to realize is what you did was not a temporary thing. You killed Voldemort –"
"With the help of my two best friends!" Harry exclaimed, slamming his fist down on the table. "I really don't see why you two don't get more attention."
"Hermione and I get plenty," the redhead smirked, eyes now glued to the half-naked girl no less than ten meters away from the two. "Speaking of, where did she go?"
Harry turned around, his eyes scanning the crowd on the dance floor for any sign of the bushy brunette he had treated that night. Finally, his eyes landed on her, and his expression relaxed when he saw whom she was snogging with.
"She's over there, on the dance floor," Harry nodded in Hermione's general direction. "Don't worry, she's just snogging a bit with Dobby."
Ron nodded, only half-hearing what Harry had said. The beat of the club had changed as the previous, now naked, stripper left the stage and a tall redhead came out.
Harry nearly fell over when he saw the expression on Ron's face. The stripper – introduced as Molly Harsh, Bondage Queen – came out wearing a tight black leather bodice, medieval style, with a scarlet leather skirt flaring out at her hips. Before Ron could have time to take in the mental picture, the music exploded once more and Molly ripped off her bodice, exposing the top of some black, lacey lingerie, barely covering her chest.
"Would you look at that…" Harry chuckled, turning back to his friend. "Quite the hottie, yes?"
All Ron could do was nod numbly, a tiny pool of drool forming underneath his chin.
"Anyway, I really don't think it's right of them to judge me by the way I dress, how I do my hair… I hate being on the cover of all those magazines, those damn PR reps never leave me the bloody hell alone!" Harry exclaimed, downing a third drink. "I did my share, I lived through six Voldemort attacks, now why can't I just leave a peaceful life?"
"Because you're Harry Potter…" Ron replied numbly, eyes still glued on the half-naked stripper. "That's why."
Harry turned around once more, his eyes falling onto Hermione and Dobby – who were now getting horizontal on one of the bars, with the Potions Master, Professor Snape, two feet away, watching on in modest interest. An attractive blonde was holding on to his elbow with her right hand and holding on to another redhead – who Harry almost immediately recognized as Fred Weasley, as George was in Albania at the time – with her left. The blonde and Fred were cheering on Hermione and Dobby with loud enthusiastic whoops of enjoyment.
"Oh God," Harry rolled his eyes, turning back to Ron. "I think we need to go over and collect Hermione and Dobby… They're making a scene again. Professor Snape's here as well."
"They're repeating history, are they?" Ron finally glanced away from the stage. "This time, they're not shagging on the Potion Master's desk… they're shagging on a bar. Lovely."
"Quite." Harry grinned, slapping a crisp twenty-pound note on the table. "I'm sure Jethro's starting to wonder where we went… Poor bugger, had to miss Molly's debut performance."
Ron laughed, "Poor bugger my arse. Leaves more for
me, that does."