A/N: Yes, I know, long time since I updated- I've had a lot of things going
on. BUT I DIDN'T GET MANY REVIEWS DID I!? HUH? HUH? YEAH- THAT'S RIGHT!
Ahem...anyways, hope you enjoy. Thanks to the following for reviewing my
story:
Chapter1: luvin'it, dragonfly-child,
Chapter2: winterspirit, Joel, emma-watson03, hellyn
Chapter3: HarryPotterGirly, Me
Chapter4: Darkened child, mojo-gasaraki, Padfoot-foreva
Chapter5: TheLoneRangers, karrottop, Darkened child, Red and Gold, hellyn,
Padfoot-foreva
Chapter6: Joel
Chapter7: dirtyharriet, winterspirit, scattiluci, Red and Gold
Chapter8: winterspirit, dirtyharriet, Red and Gold
Chapter9: nabriton, mojo-gasaraki, Joel
Chapter10: Joel, Rikku~Final Fantasy~, PsychoHaired,
Disclaimer: Ok, I don't own them, HAPPY?
Chapter Eleven:
"Rule number 56: NEVER- wait- ALWAYS use a condom."
"Relax," Harry soothed as he approached Ron in his corner, "Not even Hermione would touch your foreskin."
"Oh, you don't want to know to what lengths I'll go."
Ron suddenly cheered up
"ER- I mean, for purely scientific purposes of course."
Ron remained enthusiastic.
"VERY painful scientific purposes" Hermione enforced.
"Oh..." Ron enthusiasm fleeted.
***
After Ron's little outburst, and many threats of circumcision, (this time, to both Harry and Ron) the trio and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley gathered around the dinning table for dinner, which was then followed by dessert.
"Ron," Mr. Weasley said over sweets, "now, since circumcision has been on the cards tonight," Ron swallowed hard, "It's only fair that I begin the traditional, chronically embarrassing, unnecessary sharing of my limited knowledge on the women's psyche and how to deal with it..."
And so began Mr. Weasley's epic speech every son dreads he will one day have to endure with his father, though, for Harry, considering his father was dead, this was proving to be quiet educational.
"...Rule number 18: Ron, a woman is a lot like a...ER...refridgerator! They're about 6ft, 280 pounds...wait, on second thought; a woman is like a beer. They look good, they smell good, and you'd step over your own mother just to get one!"
Mr. Weasley HAD, in fact, stepped over his own mother to get one, so this wasn't just the excessive amount of alcohol from the evening's proceedings talking.
"Rule number 56: NEVER- wait- ALWAYS use a condom."
Ron gagged on his pumpkin juice. Yes, dear Ronald was quiet flustered indeed. Ears red, and vegetable juice in lungs, Ron, embarrassed, asked "What does that have to do with anything!?"
"Speaking from experience, Son. And you take this in too Harry. Look at how many children me and your mother have! Sure, she was on the pill, but how reliable is 98%!"
"Actually, Mr. Weasley," Hermione butted in, "98% is quiet effective in-"
"Don't you be poisoning my sons mind with your science and hard evidence!"
"Dad!" Ron was really quiet embarrassed."
"And with Ron fancying you-" Mr. Weasley gasped.
"You listen, son. NEVER SURCUMB! You don't want to end up in your late 40's with a billion children! Ruin your life it will-"
Molly shot him a look.
"ER- Did I say ruin? I meant fill your life with joy. Little treasures children are- don't regret it for a second!"
Molly still looked pissed.
"And- ER- Hermione, I meant nothing by that she devil comment."
"You didn't call me a she devil"
"Didn't I?"
"No"
"Oh, meant to. Oh, yes, and the final rule, the golden rule. Rule Number 57: first you get the sugar, then you get the power, then you get the women"
That one was the alcohol talking.
"Gotta have the right honey to lure the bee, right "Mr. Weasley winked at Harry and nudged Ron in the ribs."
"Actually, Mr. Weasley," Hermione butted in again, "Bees don't eat honey, they make it. In fact, it's the nectar that attracts the-"
"Quiet, you she devil!"
"Authur!" Molly screamed.
"What, I apologised before hand!"
***
Once the drama of desert was finished, the three of them decided to take a night walk around the Weasley's property, which resulted in the trio collapsing around mid way from exhaustion. Time got away from them and they ended up staying the night outside. When they woke in the early hours of the morning, Harry laughed at what he saw.
"What?" Ron shouted when he was woken by Harry's laughter, "Oh...that..."
It seemed that Hermione and Ron had been up to their old subconscious, nightly tricks again. The semi-naked Hermione, and the completely Ron lay sprawled out on the Weasley's lawn.
"Damn it- WHY CAN'T I BE AWAKE WHEN THIS HAPPENS!?"
Hermione woke up.
"What's going- HOLY SHIT!!!"
***
The following morning before breakfast Mrs. Weasley and Harry were in the kitchen playing music: Harry on the Guitar, and Molly doing the vocals.
"How many roads must a man walk down, before you can call him a man?"
"...Seven!" Mr. Weasley called out from the lounge room.
"No, Dad," Ron said as he walked down the staircase, "It's a rhetorical question."
"...Eight!"
"Do you even know what rhetorical means?"
"DO I KNOW WHAT RHETORICAL MEANS!"
"Hey," Ron said, taking the guitar from Harry, "You wanna hear my alteration?"
"Yeah, alright" Harry agreed
"How many roads must Hermione walk down, before you can call her a m-"
Hermione hit Ron over the back of the head
"...Nine!"
***
"Think you're better than us, do ya? Think you know better than your family 'ay? As long as you're living in MY house you'll do as I say and believe what I believe!"
"But dad-"
"AH! Now butter your bacon, son"
Ron buttered his bacon as he was told around the breakfast table.
"That's better"
Ron then picked up a sausage from his plate.
"AH! Now bacon up that sausage, boy"
"But dad, my heart hurts-"
"AH!"
Ron 'baconed up his sausage without another word.
Whilst Ron's family and their guests sat around the breakfast table ("Authur! I told you to get your feet down from the breakfast table!" "You said dinner table!" "IT'S THE SAME TABLE!") Errol flew into kitchen, glided over Harry's head, skimmed the jug of milk and landed in Hermione's hair. He threw the letters at Mr. Weasley and perched himself back on top of the bush on which he had landed and proceeded to make a nest ("GET OFF!").
"Oh look, the three of you have a letter from Professor McGonagall, how predictable" He said, passing it to Ron, "And we've got one from Dumbledore, Molly, also predictable."
The trio opened theirs, reading it separately:
Dear Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger,
Although we realize you've been suspended, we do not find you so unworthy as not to merit an invitation to the school's annual play. This year, the production is titled: Gonna paint a wagon. My sources tell me that Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley had the pleasure of stumbling in on one of the rehearsals about a week and a half ago, and we are keen to hear your thoughts. *Hint hint* *If thoughts are perhaps not of good nature then I smell another suspension coming on*. There will be a 15 minute interlude, in which a surprise performer will entertain the audience, and we, the staff, have seen to it that his talent is much, much, much worse than the play ever could be- guaranteeing our success...we hope. Of course, as you would know, the cast is staff ONLY, and this ensures a very tacky production- look forward to seeing you.
Yours Sincerely Prof. McGonagall Warm wishes from all of Hogwarts' Staff and Students. (Note to receiver: Staff and students warm wishes may be insincere, unauthorized or made with sadistic intentions.)
P.S. Due to the circumstances the minute the show finishes your welcome officially wears out.
Happy Holidays!
The trio went back to eating their breakfast, a little annoyed that they had to go back to school to see the play. The memory of Professor Dumbledore in a red leather western suit still haunted Ron and Hermione in nightly dreams- not to mention the image of Professor Trealweny streaking through the crowd.
"What's the matter with the two of you" Harry asked Hermione and Ron.
"I don't know, we just started shuddering."
"Weird..."
"So, dad, what's yours say?" Ron asked, baconing up another sausage, and receiving an approving 'well-done, son! I can see that circumcision threat shrinking into the distance!' look from his father.
"Just another school fee notice for another 500 billion dollars we don't have."
Ron looked concerned.
"Oh don't worry, son, I've got it sorted."
Ron went back to eating his breakfast.
Mr Weasley finished his toast and began to walk out the door.
"Where you going, dad?"
"Sperm bank"
***
Later in the evening........................
"Authur, I've been thinking and-"
"You're stuck with me- I knocked you up! This marriage is binding! You can't bail out now! -"
"Authur- what are you talking about!?"
"...Nothing..."
"Right. Well ANYWAY, I've been thinking, and I think it would be a nice surprise for Ginny if we accompanied the children to this...play."
"What's the point of going out, we're just going to end up back here anyway"
"Authur- I'm trying to do something nice for the children-"
"But Molly- Hogwarts productions suck! You know that as well as I do-"
"Uh- don't remind me."
"Well maybe you need reminding! Remember that horrible rendition of Alice of Wonderland?"
Molly sighed deeply, "Yes, yes I do," She said, pinching the bridge of her nose, "Filch as Alice, It was a one man show, no reviews, terrible premiere and horrendous costume."
"I told him Alice just wouldn't wear a sequined novelty printer cartridge as a dress, but he wouldn't have a bar of it...," Mr. Weasley said, shaking his head. "But I suppose you're right, we better go in and face the music: If they wanna paint a wagon- then damn it! - They're gonna paint a wagon!"
"I'm a very lucky woman"
"And I'm a wonderful man"
***
Mr. Weasley, who was sitting in front of the T.V. late that night, was now regretting his decision. He didn't particularly want to revisit his teenage years, but he'd have to if he didn't want to wake up on the lawn again.
An ad came on, breaking his train of thought.
"It's 11 o'clock at night- do you know where you're children are?"
"I TOLD you last night- no!"
***
A/N: Sorry- I know it's short, but it'll have to do. Yes, I am aware, there IS a lack of plot!
***
Disclaimer: Ok, I don't own them, HAPPY?
Chapter Eleven:
"Rule number 56: NEVER- wait- ALWAYS use a condom."
"Relax," Harry soothed as he approached Ron in his corner, "Not even Hermione would touch your foreskin."
"Oh, you don't want to know to what lengths I'll go."
Ron suddenly cheered up
"ER- I mean, for purely scientific purposes of course."
Ron remained enthusiastic.
"VERY painful scientific purposes" Hermione enforced.
"Oh..." Ron enthusiasm fleeted.
***
After Ron's little outburst, and many threats of circumcision, (this time, to both Harry and Ron) the trio and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley gathered around the dinning table for dinner, which was then followed by dessert.
"Ron," Mr. Weasley said over sweets, "now, since circumcision has been on the cards tonight," Ron swallowed hard, "It's only fair that I begin the traditional, chronically embarrassing, unnecessary sharing of my limited knowledge on the women's psyche and how to deal with it..."
And so began Mr. Weasley's epic speech every son dreads he will one day have to endure with his father, though, for Harry, considering his father was dead, this was proving to be quiet educational.
"...Rule number 18: Ron, a woman is a lot like a...ER...refridgerator! They're about 6ft, 280 pounds...wait, on second thought; a woman is like a beer. They look good, they smell good, and you'd step over your own mother just to get one!"
Mr. Weasley HAD, in fact, stepped over his own mother to get one, so this wasn't just the excessive amount of alcohol from the evening's proceedings talking.
"Rule number 56: NEVER- wait- ALWAYS use a condom."
Ron gagged on his pumpkin juice. Yes, dear Ronald was quiet flustered indeed. Ears red, and vegetable juice in lungs, Ron, embarrassed, asked "What does that have to do with anything!?"
"Speaking from experience, Son. And you take this in too Harry. Look at how many children me and your mother have! Sure, she was on the pill, but how reliable is 98%!"
"Actually, Mr. Weasley," Hermione butted in, "98% is quiet effective in-"
"Don't you be poisoning my sons mind with your science and hard evidence!"
"Dad!" Ron was really quiet embarrassed."
"And with Ron fancying you-" Mr. Weasley gasped.
"You listen, son. NEVER SURCUMB! You don't want to end up in your late 40's with a billion children! Ruin your life it will-"
Molly shot him a look.
"ER- Did I say ruin? I meant fill your life with joy. Little treasures children are- don't regret it for a second!"
Molly still looked pissed.
"And- ER- Hermione, I meant nothing by that she devil comment."
"You didn't call me a she devil"
"Didn't I?"
"No"
"Oh, meant to. Oh, yes, and the final rule, the golden rule. Rule Number 57: first you get the sugar, then you get the power, then you get the women"
That one was the alcohol talking.
"Gotta have the right honey to lure the bee, right "Mr. Weasley winked at Harry and nudged Ron in the ribs."
"Actually, Mr. Weasley," Hermione butted in again, "Bees don't eat honey, they make it. In fact, it's the nectar that attracts the-"
"Quiet, you she devil!"
"Authur!" Molly screamed.
"What, I apologised before hand!"
***
Once the drama of desert was finished, the three of them decided to take a night walk around the Weasley's property, which resulted in the trio collapsing around mid way from exhaustion. Time got away from them and they ended up staying the night outside. When they woke in the early hours of the morning, Harry laughed at what he saw.
"What?" Ron shouted when he was woken by Harry's laughter, "Oh...that..."
It seemed that Hermione and Ron had been up to their old subconscious, nightly tricks again. The semi-naked Hermione, and the completely Ron lay sprawled out on the Weasley's lawn.
"Damn it- WHY CAN'T I BE AWAKE WHEN THIS HAPPENS!?"
Hermione woke up.
"What's going- HOLY SHIT!!!"
***
The following morning before breakfast Mrs. Weasley and Harry were in the kitchen playing music: Harry on the Guitar, and Molly doing the vocals.
"How many roads must a man walk down, before you can call him a man?"
"...Seven!" Mr. Weasley called out from the lounge room.
"No, Dad," Ron said as he walked down the staircase, "It's a rhetorical question."
"...Eight!"
"Do you even know what rhetorical means?"
"DO I KNOW WHAT RHETORICAL MEANS!"
"Hey," Ron said, taking the guitar from Harry, "You wanna hear my alteration?"
"Yeah, alright" Harry agreed
"How many roads must Hermione walk down, before you can call her a m-"
Hermione hit Ron over the back of the head
"...Nine!"
***
"Think you're better than us, do ya? Think you know better than your family 'ay? As long as you're living in MY house you'll do as I say and believe what I believe!"
"But dad-"
"AH! Now butter your bacon, son"
Ron buttered his bacon as he was told around the breakfast table.
"That's better"
Ron then picked up a sausage from his plate.
"AH! Now bacon up that sausage, boy"
"But dad, my heart hurts-"
"AH!"
Ron 'baconed up his sausage without another word.
Whilst Ron's family and their guests sat around the breakfast table ("Authur! I told you to get your feet down from the breakfast table!" "You said dinner table!" "IT'S THE SAME TABLE!") Errol flew into kitchen, glided over Harry's head, skimmed the jug of milk and landed in Hermione's hair. He threw the letters at Mr. Weasley and perched himself back on top of the bush on which he had landed and proceeded to make a nest ("GET OFF!").
"Oh look, the three of you have a letter from Professor McGonagall, how predictable" He said, passing it to Ron, "And we've got one from Dumbledore, Molly, also predictable."
The trio opened theirs, reading it separately:
Dear Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger,
Although we realize you've been suspended, we do not find you so unworthy as not to merit an invitation to the school's annual play. This year, the production is titled: Gonna paint a wagon. My sources tell me that Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley had the pleasure of stumbling in on one of the rehearsals about a week and a half ago, and we are keen to hear your thoughts. *Hint hint* *If thoughts are perhaps not of good nature then I smell another suspension coming on*. There will be a 15 minute interlude, in which a surprise performer will entertain the audience, and we, the staff, have seen to it that his talent is much, much, much worse than the play ever could be- guaranteeing our success...we hope. Of course, as you would know, the cast is staff ONLY, and this ensures a very tacky production- look forward to seeing you.
Yours Sincerely Prof. McGonagall Warm wishes from all of Hogwarts' Staff and Students. (Note to receiver: Staff and students warm wishes may be insincere, unauthorized or made with sadistic intentions.)
P.S. Due to the circumstances the minute the show finishes your welcome officially wears out.
Happy Holidays!
The trio went back to eating their breakfast, a little annoyed that they had to go back to school to see the play. The memory of Professor Dumbledore in a red leather western suit still haunted Ron and Hermione in nightly dreams- not to mention the image of Professor Trealweny streaking through the crowd.
"What's the matter with the two of you" Harry asked Hermione and Ron.
"I don't know, we just started shuddering."
"Weird..."
"So, dad, what's yours say?" Ron asked, baconing up another sausage, and receiving an approving 'well-done, son! I can see that circumcision threat shrinking into the distance!' look from his father.
"Just another school fee notice for another 500 billion dollars we don't have."
Ron looked concerned.
"Oh don't worry, son, I've got it sorted."
Ron went back to eating his breakfast.
Mr Weasley finished his toast and began to walk out the door.
"Where you going, dad?"
"Sperm bank"
***
Later in the evening........................
"Authur, I've been thinking and-"
"You're stuck with me- I knocked you up! This marriage is binding! You can't bail out now! -"
"Authur- what are you talking about!?"
"...Nothing..."
"Right. Well ANYWAY, I've been thinking, and I think it would be a nice surprise for Ginny if we accompanied the children to this...play."
"What's the point of going out, we're just going to end up back here anyway"
"Authur- I'm trying to do something nice for the children-"
"But Molly- Hogwarts productions suck! You know that as well as I do-"
"Uh- don't remind me."
"Well maybe you need reminding! Remember that horrible rendition of Alice of Wonderland?"
Molly sighed deeply, "Yes, yes I do," She said, pinching the bridge of her nose, "Filch as Alice, It was a one man show, no reviews, terrible premiere and horrendous costume."
"I told him Alice just wouldn't wear a sequined novelty printer cartridge as a dress, but he wouldn't have a bar of it...," Mr. Weasley said, shaking his head. "But I suppose you're right, we better go in and face the music: If they wanna paint a wagon- then damn it! - They're gonna paint a wagon!"
"I'm a very lucky woman"
"And I'm a wonderful man"
***
Mr. Weasley, who was sitting in front of the T.V. late that night, was now regretting his decision. He didn't particularly want to revisit his teenage years, but he'd have to if he didn't want to wake up on the lawn again.
An ad came on, breaking his train of thought.
"It's 11 o'clock at night- do you know where you're children are?"
"I TOLD you last night- no!"
***
A/N: Sorry- I know it's short, but it'll have to do. Yes, I am aware, there IS a lack of plot!
***