Disclaimer: Not mine. Stop asking.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Of Childish Knickers and Ruby Red Slippers
The next thing I knew, I was opening my eyes, finding myself in my bed, snuggled under the covers, wearing a tank top and knickers with the words, "Boys are stupid. You should throw rocks at them" written across the bum.
Childish, I know. But it made me feel better as there were currently no boys in my knickers.
I bolted upright and stared at the clock beside my bed. It was 11:00 at night.
I winced as the memories of the evening's events came flooding back.
That's the thing about getting drunk on headache potion. It doesn't make you forget any of the embarrassing and/or completely ridiculous things you did while you were drunk. You have absolutely no trouble recalling what occurred during your drunken stupor.
But then I realized something.
I had supposedly passed out fully clothed while snogging Harry in the kitchen.
Right now, I was waking up in only a tank top and knickers in my bedroom, completely devoid of a Harry.
My eyes widened. It might have only been a dream! Oh my effing stars, IT MIGHT HAVE ONLY BEEN A DREAM!
That would mean no butter dish, no potato comment, no goldfish snogging, no interview, and best of all, no Butch!
But I couldn't be sure. Not in this crazy world. CONSTANT VIGILANCE! as I was once told.
There was only one way to find out.
Slowly, I picked up the handheld mirror beside my bed and looked into it.
There was me, staring back.
And guess what?
NO FLOO POWDER IN MY HAIR!
But that didn't prove it. If I had been changed out of my clothes, then my hair could've been scourgified.
No, what really proved that it was a dream was…
NO GIANT PURPLE BRUISE ON MY FOREHEAD!
I whooped and then jumped out of bed to do a happy dance.
I was in the middle of shaking my booty and pointing my fingers up in the air, when my feet got entangled in something on the floor and I fell over with a thud.
"Umph!" I said, "What the bloody hell?"
And then I saw it. What my feet had entangled themselves in during my happy dance, that is.
It was a blouse. A white blouse to be exact. It was crumpled up around my feet.
It looked suspiciously like the one I had been wearing in my dream.
Slowly and with increasing dread, I picked it up and let it unfold in front of my face.
Oh no.
Oh no, oh no, oh no.
There, down the front of the blouse, was a large brown stain that smelled remarkably like coffee.
I groaned and lowered the shirt.
Then I yelped because Butch was staring at me from the other side of it.
All hope of it possibly being a dream died when I saw him.
"About time," he said, irritated, "I thought I was going to have to wait bloody forever for you to wake up."
"It's only been a few hours."
He stared at me incredulously, "A few hours? Well, if you call 72 hours a few, then maybe, but…" I interrupted him there.
"72 hours," I croaked, "As in, three days!" Well, that certainly explained the no bruise on the head bit. But still, I like the idea of it being a dream much better. I wouldn't be forced to drown myself in the bathtub if it was only a dream.
"YES! THREE BLOODY DAYS! Days I could have been spending in Hawaii getting a tan. But nooooooo, butter-face just HAD to overdose on freaking painkillers!"
"It was headache potion!" I yelled, "not painkillers."
He just looked at me.
"You're completely nuts," he stated.
I glared at him, "No Butch," I said, "I am not nuts. I am bloody insane. No, not even insane. I have passed insane and have reached…WHATEVER IT IS THAT IS BEYOND INSANE!" I said this while I waved my blouse around hysterically.
He just looked at me some more, "Like I said, you're nuts."
I just groaned and got to my feet.
I needed some ice cream.
Fast.
I got up and walked towards the door.
There was a wolf whistle behind me, "Nice knickers!"
I just stuck a hand over my shoulder and raised my middle finger as I went out the door and began descending the stairs.
I got to the bottom and headed straight for the freezer. Nothing was going to stop me from getting that ice cream. Absolutely nothing.
Not even rabid monkeys.
Not even mutant penguins.
Not even pineapple and anchovie pizzas come alive.
Not even scrumptious Harry's sitting at the kitchen table drinking tea.
I yanked open the freezer door and started rummaging around before my brain fully registered what it had been thinking.
Wait a second, scrumptious Harry's sitting at the kitchen table drinking tea?
No…it couldn't be…
Slowly, I stood up and turned around.
And there he was, teacup halfway to his mouth, staring at me in my red-haired, freckle faced, childish knickered glory.
I closed my eyes and willed him to be a hallucination.
I opened them again…nope, he was still there.
And now he was smiling and staring at my knickers.
"You're finally awake," he said.
I only stared at him, saying nothing and trying to convince myself that he wasn't real.
He spoke again, "You don't have any rocks do you? I'm rather tired, I don't think I could dodge them if you started throwing them at me."
I remembered my knickers and blushed. Luckily it was dark, so he probably couldn't tell.
Wait no, scratch that, it wasn't dark because the freezer was still open, and of course, while freezer doors are open, light is issuing from them.
I was standing in front of an open freezer door. Therefore, light was issuing from it and illuminating my blushing, knicker-wearing form.
And it was freezing my bum off. So I reached behind me and shut it.
Then I looked at Harry and stated, "You're a hallucination."
"No," he said, "I'm pretty sure I'm not."
I walked over to him stretched my hand out towards him. It made contact. I pulled it back as if I had been burned.
He was real. Oh my god, he was real. And I was in my knickers! And he was real! And I had snogged him! And he was real!
In a fit of desperation, I racked my brain for potential ways that this situation might not actually be happening.
Remote Possibility Number One: I had somehow become stuck in an alternate universe. One where I wore knickers into the kitchen looking for ice cream and Harry's commonly sat at said kitchen's table at 11 at night, staring at me wearing said knickers. And made comments on them.
I mean, it could've happened. The Tetra-twerps could've shoved me into the vanishing cabinet, and I could've ended up in an alternate universe. I mean, no one really knew where all that cabinet vanished to.
At the moment, I couldn't think of any more remote possibilities, so I clung to the one I had created. That way, I didn't have to face reality.
Denial is such sweet bliss.
Harry spoke again, "Well, tomorrow's you're deadline. Don't you need that interview?"
The interview.
My mouth fell open as I realized what this meant…I was going to be giving Harry James Potter an interview pertaining to his love life…wearing only knickers and a tank top.
Sweet Merlin.
Alternate universe or not, I did not want to ask Harry which he like better, bums or breasts, while wearing nothing but a too-small tank top and juvenile knickers ordering people to throw rocks at the male species.
Desperately, I searched for reasons not to do the interview.
"Erm…I don't have the questions," I said. Harry pulled them out of his robes.
"You gave them to me, remember?"
Oh, ya.
Damn, well nix on Plan A.
On to Plan B.
"No quill," I stated feebly. It sounded lame even to me.
Harry reached into his robes and pulled out a quill.
Right then, Plan C.
"I don't have any…" but Harry interrupted me.
"It's a self-inking one."
Well damn it all to hell, then!
Fine. FINE! I was going to give this interview to Harry in my knickers. And if he said anything about it, I would throw rocks at him like they told me to. So, there!
Besides, I was in an alternate universe. It wasn't going to matter once I got back to the real world anyways.
Or maybe it wasn't an alternate universe. Maybe I was actually in St. Mungo's Psyche Ward, gone completely loony. Maybe I was trapped inside my own twisted mind, unable to free myself, forever stuck in the freakish world I had created.
Remote Possibility Number Two, for sure.
I rather liked the alternate universe one better. At least then, I had a chance of escaping back to the real world. I was pretty sure that if this was all a creation of my own fanatical mind, I wasn't going to get out any time soon.
So, I stuck with the alternate universe possibility, and prepared to give Harry his interview.
I looked at the questions.
Number One: Which do you prefer, blondes or brunettes?
Well that wasn't so bad.
I straightened in my chair and tried to pretend I was actually fully clothed in my special, professional, interview-giving suit.
It didn't work.
So then I tried imagining Harry in only his boxers.
That only succeeded in making me blush and lose my concentration as I gazed rapturously at his imaginary abs.
Well, I suppose I could imagine him completely...
Butch smirked at me from his perch over Harry's head, "The whole "imagine the audience is naked" thing never works," he said.
Right, so, definitely not gonna imagine Harry in his birthday suit. Bad idea.
Damn, too late. I blushed some more and said in a squeaky voice, "Right, so... Harry. Blondes or brunettes?"
He looked at me for a moment, seemingly contemplating something. He glanced above my head, nodded almost imperceptibly, and turned back to me.
"Neither," he stated.
Neither? What did he mean, neither? How could it be neither?
Then I remembered a certain black-haired beauty by the name of Cho.
I clenched my fist around the quill. Ooooh, I wanted to gouge her eyes out and feed them to the giant squid. I wanted to shave all her hair off, take a picture, and print it on the cover of Witch Weekly. I wanted to…
Butch interrupted my thoughts, "You shouldn't bottle up all that rage," he stated, "It's not healthy. Raises your blood pressure and all," he smirked, "And I think lover-boy is waiting for you to say something."
"Erm…right, then. You like the black-haired bitc-…beauties." I said.
"Nope."
Nope? What the bloody hell was he talking about? What else was there, pink? Gasp! Pink hair! Who did he know with pink hair? Oh my gosh! He was in love with Tonks! Oooooh, I wanted to…
But before I could think of a cruel and unusual way to inflict pain upon Tonks, Harry said…
"I'm rather partial to redheads."
I was stunned. Redheads? But that would mean he liked…me.
That was all the proof I needed. The final straw. Icing on the cake.
Yep, I was in an alternate universe for sure. No doubt about it.
So, I promptly ducked under the table and grabbed Harry's feet, untying his sneakers and pulling them off, bringing them out from under the table and setting them in front of me.
"Gin, what…Gin? What are you doing?"
I ignored him and looked around for my wand. I didn't see it anywhere, and I was getting impatient. So, I turned to Harry, and reached into his pocket, grabbing his wand. (No! Not that wand you perverts!)
I then turned back to the sneakers. It was time for desperate measures.
I waved his wand at them and muttered a spell under my breath.
The shoes vibrated slightly, and then changed into a pair of red, sparkly high heels. Though they still had grungy shoelaces, but hey! it wasn't my wand, you can't blame me.
I was going to pull a Dorothy because Toto! we weren't in Kansas anymore!
I couldn't think of any other way to get back to my real world. The world where I didn't stick my elbow in butter dishes, or make strange comments about mashed potatoes and goldfish, or have strange flying midgets stalking me, or hallucinate Harry's that told me they were partial to redheads.
I grabbed the heels, put them on my feet, and stood up.
I then closed my eyes and tapped them together three times.
"There's no place like home, there's no place like home, there's no place like home," I muttered.
Hey! It worked for Dorothy in the Muggle movie! You, know, the one with the creepy flying monkeys that looked a bit like Butch? Wizard of Shnoz or something?
I cracked an eye open to see if it had worked.
It hadn't.
I closed them tightly and continued tapping my heels. Only this time, it was with slightly more force.
TAP! "There's no place like home!" TAP! "There's no place like home!" TAP! "THERE'S NO BLOODY PLACE LIKE HOME!"
I was getting hysterical. It wasn't working.
TAP! "THERE'S NO PLACE LIKE HOME!" TAP! "THERE IS NO PLACE LIKE HOME!" TAP! CRACK!
That's when the heels broke because I was tapping them together so hard.
I fell over and landed on top of Harry. Again. It was becoming a rather nasty habit of mine
"Gin? What, exactly, are you doing?"
I stared at him. He was definitely a solid being. Not what I would call a hallucination
I looked down at myself. I was still only in my knickers and a tank top, except I had added the red high heels with shoelaces.
"It didn't work," I said.
Harry looked confused.
"I'm still in the alternate universe."
"What alternate universe?"
"The one where I'm giving you an interview while in my knickers and your saying you like redheads."
Harry chuckled, "This isn't an alternate universe, Gin. You are giving me and interview while in your knickers, and I do like redheads."
I stared at him.
Okay, then. Well, fine, I was just going to stick with denial and not worry about how, exactly, I wasn't really in this situation.
So, I sat down in my own chair and picked up the quill again.
"Question number two: describe your perfect girl."
Harry glanced over my head again, took a deep breath, and said, "Well, for starters, she's sitting right in front of me."
That did it. "NOT AN ALTERNATE UNIVERSE, MY ARSE!" I yelled.
I then stood up and stalked over to the vanishing cabinet in the corner. I threw open the doors, bent my knees so that I could hurl myself into it and pray to all that was holy it would take me back to the right universe.
But before I could leap into the cabinet, Harry grabbed around the waist and twirled me around to face him.
"Gin," he said, "You are not in an alternate universe."
I was still hysterical, "Oh, I'm not, am I? Well then how do you explain you're comments, huh? How do you explain my walking into the kitchen in my knickers and finding you there, huh? HOW DO YOU BLOODY EXPLAIN WHY I AM ONCE AGAIN STICKING MY ELBOW IN THE BLOODY BUTTER DISH WHEN YOUR AROUND, HUH?" I was breathing heavily.
Harry remained calm, however, and simply said, "You tell me."
I stared at him incredulously, and let my temper take over, "Oh, you want to know, do you! Well, then, I'll tell you, bucko. Oh, I'll tell you alright! Wanna know?... IT'S BECAUSE I FELL HEAD OVER EFFING HEELS IN LOVE WITH YOU!"
Oh, shit. I did not mean to say that.
I clapped my hands over my mouth, and my eyes widened in horror. Harry just looked slightly stunned.
Butch whooped and said, "Thank Merlin! FINALLY! Hawaii, here I come!"
Harry was still staring at me. Then he said, "Gin, take your hands away from your mouth."
I shook my head no. My mouth was in time out. It wasn't aloud to talk anymore.
Harry sighed and pried them off himself. Then he grabbed my head and all-out snogged me.
My hands shot to his hair, and I ran my fingers through it. He wrapped his arms tighter around me and pulled me closer.
We broke apart for a second to breathe.
I was stunned. Harry had just kissed me. And he wasn't drunk. And there was no way this was an alternate universe because if it was I was going to throw an almighty tantrum. Everyone knew this, see? So therefore, whoever was in charge of making alternate universes would not have me put in one because they would have known I would throw an almighty tantrum. See?
So ha, alternate universe maker!
Harry looked into my eyes, "I love you, too, Gin."
I swooned.
Or, at least, I would have swooned, except somebody farted, and it distracted me.
"Oops, sorry. Beans are gettin' to me," said a voice from right above my head.
I looked up to see another flying dwarf hovering above me. He looked exactly like Butch, only fatter. And slightly hairier. Which was disgusting, as you could probably make an entire wardrobe of clothes using only Butch's hair.
Harry rolled his eyes, "That's what you've been saying for four bloody days."
"That's what he's been saying his entire life," said Butch. Harry's head snapped up to look at Butch.
"What the hell?" Harry and I both said.
"You have one, too?" we said together, as we looked back at each other.
"What's going on?" we said, turning to the Cupids.
The fat one farted again, "Whoops!"
Butch wrinkled his nose, "Could you please desist from doing that, Thor?"
Thor? Goodness, these Cupids definitely had some insecurities about their masculinity, making up names like that. Though, I would too if I was a dwarf who wore heart boxers and made people fall in love...
"Excuse me? Could you please explain to me what's going on! I am standing here, completely confused, and you are farting. DO WE SEE A PROBLEM WITH THIS SITUATION?" I was losing my temper again. Nasty habit of mine number two.
Harry guided me over to a chair at the table and sat down with me, "Calm down," he said soothingly. Then he turned to Butch and Thor, "Yes, do explain," he said.
"Well, you two," Butch jabbed his finger at us, "refused to tell the other one how you felt about them. Therefore…"
Thor cut in, "Mum sent us down to make you."
"But I thought there was only one Cupid," I said.
They looked at me incredulously, and Thor said, "And how the bloody hell is one Cupid supposed to help all those people fall in love, pray tell?"
I never thought about it that way.
"Oh."
"Well, then. Our work here is done. We're off to Maui. See ya!"
And they disappeared in puffs of sweet-smelling pink smoke.
Harry and I just stared after them for a while.
Then Harry turned to me and said, "Now, where were we?"
And he kissed me again.
Hallelujah!
Praise Merlin!
Holy Hippogriffs, he was a good snogger!
By the time he was finished kissing me I was nothing but a puddle of mush, leaning on the table for support.
I looked at him with glazed eyes and snorted.
"So you're glasses do fog up in particularly heated snog sessions," I said, taking off his glasses, wiping the fog off, and putting them back on.
He grinned goofily, and then looked at me.
"Hey, Gin?" he asked.
"Hmmmm?" I said, unable to string any kind of coherent words together. I was too busy watching him grin.
"You're elbow is in the butter dish again."
Ahhhh, and so it was.
El Fin
