A/N: this is set pre-HBP, at happier times.

Harry waded through muggle magazines practically up to his horcrux (A/N: Er, I mean scar). "Damn," the boy who lived hissed to his friend Ron. "Your Dad keeps a lot of junk in here."

"Yeah, it's good for a laugh sometimes." Ron said, bending over an egg carton.

Hermione held up a metal rectangle with writing on it that said 'Elm Street.' She pursed her lips. "You do realize your dad probably stole this?"

"Nah," Ron said and quickly averted his eyes. "It fell, I swear."

Hermione rolled her own eyes as she examined a pair of plaid male knickers between her thumb and forefinger. Ron's face blushed bright red and grabbed them as quickly as humanly possible. "Howdthosegethere," he mumbled under his breath.

"What's this?" Harry held up an issue of a magazine featuring a buxom blonde on the cover doing a 'come hither' pose. "Playboy," He read the title.

Hermione chocked back a combination gasp and laugh. "Disgusting!"

"Bloody Hell!" Ron tilted his head to get a better view.

The testosterone seemed to get the better of Ron and Harry as they stood there, mouths wide open. "Oh, honestly," Hermione tsked. "You can't possibly find this sexy!" She darted her eyes to Ron's in a wavering voice.

"Right," Ron threw the magazine down, the paper making a dim crunch on old newspapers. "I mean, muggle chicks," he scoffed. "At least muggle-borns…" he trailed off, ears turning pinker. (A/N: Viva Ron/Hermione!"

A little after dinner, Ron went back to his father's 'muggle shed' to put a spatuala he had borrowed away. While rooting through to find it's proper place, he stumbled upon Harry. Brow furrowed, Harry was looking at 'Playboy.'

"What the devil are you doing?" Ron's voice had taken on an unusually high pitch.

"These," Harry replied. "Are the best articles I've ever read!"