Disclaimer: Ya ya, they have to rub it in that I don't own it.

Of Defenseless Eyebrows and Stray Arrows

I decided that, to be safe, I should go ahead and just tell him about the interview. That way, I wouldn't run the risk of further embarrassing myself.

Unless he shaved my eyebrows off after I told him.

I was pretty sure my next confrontation with someone would be slightly embarrassing if I didn't have any eyebrows.

Besides, I didn't want him to shave them off. I was rather fond of them.

Regardless, I screwed up my Gryffindor courage and took a deep breath. I was going to tell him. I was not going to be afraid. I was just going to look up at him and say, "Harry, I would be highly honored if you would give me an interview pertaining to your love life as my first assignment."

Well, maybe not quite like that. That sounded a little bit like something Percy would say. And Percy is a stupid git, and I hate him, the prat.

In fact, last time I had seen him, I had turned his nose green and had the words "Stupid Git" sprouted across his forehead in pimples. It had stayed that way for a week. Muhahaha.

So, anywho, no, I wouldn't say it like that.

Maybe I would say it more like, "Harry, would you mind terribly if I interviewed you for my first article for Witch Weekly?" In a really sweet and guiltless voice of course. I might even go so far as looking at him imploringly and clasping my hands in front of me innocently. You know, like in those movies with girls in the white frilly dresses? The ones where they go, "Oh, you are ever so kind for saving my little kitty from the big mean dog! Would you mind terribly if I gave you a kiss on the cheek for your kindness?"

And ideally, he would look at me and say, "Aw shucks, Gin…you know I can't say no to you. It'd be my pleasure to let you kiss my cheek."

And so then I would, and the little girl in the white frilly dress would be drop-kicked out the window to be replaced by the bad bad little girl named Ginny that would snog Harry until his brains fell out.

Erm, right. Not sure where that came from. Ummmm... ya.

Obviously, that wouldn't happen, so I would pull out the big wands. My puppy dog eyes. No one can resist my puppy dog eyes. Years of experience with being the youngest in a family of seven brothers made them failsafe when used on men.

In fact, my brothers insisted that they should become illegal as it was basically like putting the Imperious Curse on somebody. Any member of the male species just couldn't say no. Too soft hearted, the lot of them.

So, I had a plan. I just needed to execute it.

I took a deep breath and said…

"Please don't shave off my eyebrows."

Butch snorted and turned into a tomato again.

Congratulations to Ginevra Molly Weasely on having successfully completed the impossible task of digging herself an even deeper hole! Please contact the head of the Mortally Embarrassed Magical Persons Department to collect your prize of a brand new brown paper bag to be placed over the head in mortally embarrassing situations...

Okay, so that wasn't quite how I planned to break the ice, but it would do. Now he would have to ask me why on earth he would want shave my eyebrows off. And I could tell him.

Besides, it was better than finding some other obscure analogy that would relate some type of food to Harry's preferences in a girl.

I rather thought he might pass out if I mentioned that the grapefruits on the kitchen counter looked rather like a girl's breasts, and did he prefer large ones or small ones?

So ya, at least I had managed to stop relating everything to an item of food. Eventually, I would have seen the bananas in the fruit bowl, and my brain would have acted on its own accord and come up with an obvious comparison. I do not even want to think about what my mouth might have said.

Harry stared at me blankly, "Huh? Why would I shave off your eyebrows?"

Ah, yes. Why indeed, Harry? It was time to tell him.

"Because you would be mad at me."

At that, his eyes narrowed suspiciously, "Why?" he asked.

Okay, now was my chance to redeem myself. Stick with the puppy dog eyes. Don't mention a food item of any kind, stay away from all evil butter dishes that want to attack you, don't say anything stupid…no, that definitely wouldn't work. I would most definitely say something stupid if I opened my mouth. The bananas were mocking me.

So I decided it would be much safer to keep my pie hole tightly shut.

I reached into my pocket and pulled out the interview papers. I looked at them, "Chatting with the Wizarding World's Most Mysterious Hottie, Harry Potter."

Yeesh. Boy was I was in trouble.

So, I scrounged up all of my Gryffindor courage and thrust the papers into his hands.

Unfortunately, my Gryffindor courage supply was completely depleted by this action. So, I then proceeded to dive under the kitchen table and throw my hands over my head, pressing my forehead against my arms so that my eyebrows were protected. I've told you, I'm rather fond of them, and I don't fancy having them shaved off.

But yes, once again, the Gryffindor courage had flown out the window, and I was once again cowering under a table.

This time, however, I peeped at him with one eye from underneath my armpit.

But then I moved my head cuz it smelled bad. Yuck, body odor. But really, could you blame me? I had had a rather stressful day.

Anywho, I watched him. He read the title and his jaw dropped for the gazillionth time that day. Then, as he read the summary, he blanched and his head snapped up, looking at me.

"Ginny," he said slightly threateningly, "Come out from under that table right now and explain this."

I contemplated the look on his face. No, it definitely was not a happy face. In fact, I would venture to say that it might have been a fairly angry face.

I didn't like that look on his face. It made me think that I should probably not do as he asked. It made me think that I should probably stay under the table. It made me think that it was probably much safer.

"That's okay. I'm fine, thanks. I rather like it under here. It's nice and…protected."

Harry's eyes narrowed and his voice changed from slightly threatening to unquestionably menacing, "Ginny…"

I decided that I didn't like the unquestionably menacing tone, and that it would probably be within my best interests to have a change of plans and run and hide in my room.

Screw the puppy dog eyes, what good would they do me if I didn't have any eyebrows? I didn't think people would respond correctly to the puppy dog eyes if I had no eyebrows. My face would look like an egg…with red hair…and freckles. I was pretty sure they would only laugh hysterically.

In fact, I would probably become a hazard to their health. They might die of oxygen deprivation because they were laughing so hard, and then it would be my fault and their families and friends would chase after me with torches and pitchforks.

I didn't like the idea of being chased with fire and sharp objects that could stab me. So, I squeaked and scooted out from under the table, making a mad dash for the doorway.

Unfortunately for me, Harry had a wand. And he was an auror. That meant he was trained to chase people… and catch them.

So, he simply said, "ACCIO GINNY!" and my feet were lifted off the floor as I flew towards him.

In a desperate attempt to prolong the lives of my eyebrows, I grabbed the kitchen table as I passed, and it was dragged along with me. I smacked into his rock hard chest, and then the table smacked into me, throwing me backwards and pinning me underneath him as he fell on top of me.

Butch hovered over his Harry's head, looking down and me and smirking.

"Rather a compromising position you've gotten yourself into," he stated, his smirk broadneing. "No potatoes to save you now."

I ignored Butch, and Harry ignored before mentioned compromising position. In fact, he made it more so when he grabbed my forearms and leaned his head towards mine, his eyes boring into me. "Explain," he ordered.

Hmmm…nope, not possible. I was waaaay too preoccupied to explain.

Did he realize that he was lying on top of me? Did he realize that his face was a mere two inches away from mine? Did he realize that my hand was trapped between us, resting on his rock-solid chest? Did he realize that I was practically on fire I was blushing so fiercely?

Cuz I did, and it was rendering me speechless. Therefore, I only looked at him silently.

My mind, however was not so silent. It went something like this…

He's lying on top of me, he's lying on top of me! Omygosh! Harry Potter is lying on top of me! Oooooooh, look at his muscles…

No Ginny! Bad! Bad, bad Ginny! Don't think like that! Back away from the Harry…

I can't. Harry Potter is lying on top of me, Harry Potter is lying on top of me!

Yes, I know! You've mentioned that multiple times. Just bakc away from the Harry!

Why, exactly, would I want to do that? I rather like this position. Look at his eyes, and his muscles, and…

No Ginny! Don't do it! Don't think about him!

Why the bloody hell not? You can't stop me! I will think about him when I bloody well please. And his eyes, and his hair…

Fine, get you're eyebrows shaved off, I don't care.

My eyebrows? But I like my eyebrows! I don't want them shaved off!

Well then you should have found a better hiding place than under the kitchen table! So, get him off of you!

But I don't want to! Ah! He's looking at me…oooohhh, look at his eys…

We're doomed. Our eyebrows are history.

Harry broke my train of thought when he spoke again, "I'm getting impatient here, Ginevra."

Oooh, that was bad. Real name.

The last time someone had used my real name was when Hermione had caught me trying to stuff Crookshanks into the vanishing cabinet in our house. Obviously, that had not been a happy confrontation. But, come on! You can't blame me! The thing had eaten my brand spanking new pair of quidditch gloves! Just because Hermione thought quidditch was a waste of time and shouldn't be played when there was work to do instead did not mean she should allow her cat to eat things that related to it!

I told her as much, and I might have suggested that maybe she had trained him to eat quidditch things because she was jealous because she couldn't ride a broomstick to save her life.

That last comment landed me in Antarctica, as Hermione pushed me into the vanishing cabinet instead of Crookshanks. I had ended up stranded on a glacier filled with penguins in the middle of the Antarctic Sea. It had been hell getting back. Stupid bloody penguins.

Anywho, I was pretty much positive that I should have listened to my other voice in my head because my eyebrows were most probably in danger. If they had had a spoon on my mother's clock, it would have been pointing to "mortal peril."

"It's not my fault," I said quickly. He raised an eyebrow which, by the way, unlike mine, was perfectly safe. "My boss blackmailed me. She said she'd fire me. Please don't shave off my eyebrows." I squinted my eyes closed, preparing to have my eyebrows shaved. Farewell, my fateful friends! It was nice having you grace my face with your presence! You have served me well! You will never be forgotten!

But nothing happened. I cracked one eye opened slightly and looked up at Harry.

He no longer looked livid. Just slightly steamed. "Gin, I can't answer these questions!" he sounded a little panicked, "I mean, Gods…look at this one," he pointed to a particularly awkward question.

Many women think you're glasses are rather sexy, and some have wondered, do they get in the way of snogging? And we can't help but speculate as well, do they fog up during a particularly heated snog snession?

"Ah, yes," said Butch, "That one's my personal favorite."

I grimaced. Yes, I could certainly see why he wouldn't want to answer that.

"Umm…" I said, but just then a hysterical Ron ran screaming into the room.

Harry and my heads whipped to face him. He was shrieking bloody murder, running around in circles, hands flailing about, and mouth wide open revealing…a violently flaming tongue.

"EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!" he shrieked.

Harry jumped off me and ran to the sink. He turned on the spout, grabbed the back of Ron's robes, and shoved his head under the water.

His tongue went out in a rush of steam, and Ron was left choking and spluttering under the water.

The Tetra-twerps surveyed their work from the doorway, laughing hysterically.

Ron's head snapped up, and his eyes alighted on his nephews. He growled.

If I had heard that growl and had known it was directed at me, I'm pretty sure I would've hightailed it out of there.

But the Fearsome Four held their ground, still laughing. Maybe they were brave little Gryffindors in the making. Or maybe they were just stupid. Or, most likely, they had something planned.

Ron advanced on them, his growl turning into a roar.

They backed up, and just when Ron was passing under the doorway, one of them yanked a string he had been holding, and a large bucket of stinksap landed right on top of Ron's head. The handle fell down under his chin, holding the bucket in place.

The twins ran off, collapsing in laughter every once in a while, as they scrambled over each other to get to Fred and George's old room where they would plan their next bout of mischief making.

Ron stood stunned for a while before he screamed, "WHY YOU LITTLE BAS-"

That's when Mum appeared from out of nowhere, brandishing a wooden spoon. She wacked the spoon against Ron's bucket, making a resounding clang. Ron's head vibrated with the impact, and he wobbled around, clutching his bucket.

Butch went into screaming peels of laughter again, Harry ducked behind the table to conceal his violently purple face, and I just laid on the table, still utterly shocked that Harry had been on top of me not two minutes before.

"RONALD WEASELY! DON'T YOU DARE USE PROFANITY IN THIS HOUSEHOLD! ESPECIALLY NOT TOWARDS YOUR OWN NEPHEWS!" Mum raged. Leave it to Mum to appear just when someone is about to curse.

Ron was stumbling around, trying to get the bucket to stop vibrating. Mum had a vicious backhand with that spoon.

"But Mum!" he said from within the bucket, his voice echoed around inside it. I'm pretty sure I heard Harry snort from behind the table. "They set my tongue on fire! And then they poured stinksap on my head! What else was I supposed to call them! Why wont this BLOODY bucket come OFF!" he was tugging violently on the bucket, succeeding only in pulling his head up, stretching out his neck. He looked rather like a chicken.

Mum wacked him with the spoon again. "WHAT DID I JUST FINISH SAYING ABOUT PROFANITY?"

"BLOODY HELL, MUM! ARE YOU TRYING TO KILL ME?"

Honestly, how thick can you get? You would think that he had figured out by now to not curse when Mum had a weapon in her hand.

Mum pulled her arm back and smacked him with the spoon so hard that the handle broke.

"OOOWWWWW!" screamed Ron. And then he attempted to run away from her, but as a bucket was over his head, he just ran smack into the wall and fell in a heap onto the floor.

He got up and began crawling around frantically, bumping his bucket on every piece of furniture imaginable.

Mum was following him, smacking his butt with the broken handle of the spoon, screaming about how his profanity was corrupting his nephews.

Ron stumbled around, trying to fend Mum off.

Mum ran around after him, whacking him with the broken spoon and screaming.

Harry rolled on the floor laughing and gasping for breath.

Butch, once again, banged his fists on the counter in mirth.

And me? I was still lying on the kitchen table, staring straight ahead at where Harry's face had been four minutes before.

Ron finally managed to get the bucket off, and he sprinted outside, Mum following him, leaving Harry and me behind.

I regained some of my senses, and turned to look at Harry.

He was purple he was laughing so hard.

"Can't…breath…" he gasped, grasping the edge of a chair and pulling himself to his feet. He stood up slightly, and then broke into another bout of hysterical laughter when a faint yell of, "GET AWAY FROM ME, YOU DEVIL WOMAN!" was heard coming from where Mum and Ron had just run off to.

I realized that this was probably my best chance of escape. I figured that if Harry couldn't breathe, then he obviously could not talk.

"Right, so, I'm gonna go...powder my nose," I said as I scurried towards the door. Harry looked like he was trying to say something. I figured it was along the lines of, "Get your butt back in here and finish explaining your involvement in getting me stuck doing an interview about snogging techniques."

So, I fled up the stairs, calling, "I'll be back in time for dinner," over my shoulder.

I got to the bathroom, slammed the door, and locked it quickly, breathing heavily as I slid down the wall to a sitting position.

Well, at least he knew about the interview.

Now there was just that teensy weensy detail of actually giving it.

I looked at the bathtub. Hmmmm, maybe I could still get out of this. I mean, who cares if I'm wrinkly for my funeral? I'd be dead wouldn't I?

But, really, is it even possible to drown yourself in the bathtub? I mean, I would think you would chicken out at the last second and just pull your head out.

I suppose I could swallow the bar of soap. I might choke on it. Or maybe it would poison me. Or maybe…

Butch looked at me from his perch on the edge of the bathtub. He grabbed the bar of soap and threw it at me. I caught it.

"Please, I beg of you, try it," he said, "I could use another laugh. I think I've lost 10 pounds already today from laughing. I could stand to lose a few more."

I looked at the soap, and then I looked at Butch.

And then I threw the bar as hard as I could, and it hit Butch in the middle of the forehead.

He looked shocked, and I burst out laughing.

But I stopped laughing abruptly when he slowly took out one of his arrows and knotched it in his bow, taking aim right at…me.

"I'm getting fed up with you and your inability to string coherent sentences together around lover-boy," he said, "So I'm gonna shoot you with this arrow. Do you know what this arrow will make you do?"

I shook my head feebly, staring warily at the heart-tipped arrow.

"It will fill your mind with warm, fuzzy thoughts about butter-dish-boy down there," he said, "And do you know what that means?"

I shook my head again, though this time I had a pretty good idea of what he was about to say.

"It means that you will be very much compelled to run downstairs and confess your undying love to him."

I gasped. "You wouldn't dare," I said, though I was pretty sure he would.

He smirked, "Wanna bet?"

And then he took aim and pulled back the arrow.

I screeched and rolled out of the way, just as he released it.

It lodged into the door right where I had been not two seconds earlier.

Shit, Butch meant business.

I jumped up and yanked open the door, just as Butch pulled back another arrow.

I ran out the door, and smacked into Ron, who had his fist raised like he was going to knock on the door.

"Ginny?" he said, "What the…Ow!" he trailed off, and clutched his butt. Butch's arrow had missed me and had hit Ron in the arse.

A glazed look appeared in his eyes, and he released me.

Suddenly he yelled, "HERMIONE! I'M COMING MY LOVE!"

And then he sprinted down the stairs to find her.

Uh-oh.

"Oops," said Butch.

"Ya," said me.

Dinner was going to be a very, very hectic affair.