AN: After completing the main story, I realized I wasn't ready to leave these characters just yet. There were one or two tales that I wanted to tell but they didn't fit with the narrative I was going for. So the concept of "Extra Credit" was born. This is one of those tales and I hope you'll enjoy it.
These events are set between chapter eight and the epilogue.
Big thank you to DJKopper, Proctorb_32, Palkey, and x102reddragon for helping me to form what you see below. Eternal thank you to Foreal the Chronicler for the original idea of this whole crazy AU.
We always love to see new people in our humble community, so feel free to stop by the Flowerpot Discord server to say hi.
discord .gg / f4a9Cg8rpB
Without further ado, please enjoy Extra Credit: Operation Couch Theft
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"Ron, and know that I say this as someone who loves you dearly, what the fuck are you wearing?"
Harry gave a questioning stare to his best friend as he looked him up and down. Ron was dressed in black from head to toe. Black combat boots, black cargo pants, and a black long sleeve turtleneck.
It was the middle of August.
"What?" protested Ron, "you said we needed to be incognito."
Harry sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, a headache starting to form.
"I said inconspicuous, not incognito."
Ron nodded dumbly.
"Yeah, I'm that."
"Ron, you have camouflage face paint on."
Ron flashed a big smile, his white teeth shining bright in contrast to the dark face paint.
"Yeah, gotta be stealthy. Like a samurai," whispered Ron, making several slow karate-chop motions. Harry put his face in his hand and sighed.
"Ninja."
"Wut?"
"Ninja. Stealthy like a ninja," Harry said.
"That's what I said."
"You said sam- actually, you know what? It doesn't matter," Harry exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air.
This was turning out to be a headache, one that wouldn't go away, and was standing right in front of him. Dressed ridiculously suspicious. He was regretting telling Ron about this, but he'd been nagging him constantly about why Harry was, in Ron's own words, "acting like an old woman who'd just missed the latest Tom Sellick made-for-TV movie and doesn't know how the internet works."
"Let's just go. The computer center will be damn near empty by now, so we can get this done."
Ron shook his head. "Harry, I told you I handled the computer center. It's empty."
"What? How?"
"Remember Dobby, the custodian?" Ron asked. "I got him to tell the university he needed to close the building early for bathroom repairs."
Harry pinched the bridge of his nose. Dobby was a good guy, if a little weird, and he was always willing to help. He'd helped Harry find his way a couple times when he'd first arrived at the school, not having the layout down quite yet. The old, bald man's propensity for calling him "Mr. Harry Potter" was a little weird, but overall he was nice.
"Please tell me you're not going to get him fired for this."
Ron waved his hand dismissively as they walked across campus to the computer center.
"Relax, Harry, it'll be fine. I gave him my autograph and told him I'd get him prime seats for sportsball next school year." His brow furrowed as he looked down. "Though he did keep calling me "The Great Mr. Ron Weasley" and that made it somewhat uncomfortable, but sacrifices must to be made in the name of loooooove."
As they neared the computer center Ron began humming 'Stop in the Name of Love' under his breath. Harry glared him into silence before peering around the corner, searching for students or members of the faculty. A quiet ghost town was all that he found, the dim lights of the computer center's interior the only illumination to be found.
"You know the plan?" he asked Ron, who nodded, turning serious.
"Walk in, grab the prize, walk out. Operation Couch Theft is a-go."
Harry nodded.
"And you got everything arranged?" He raised an eyebrow at the taller redhead. Ron slapped him on the back before walking ahead.
"Relaaaaax. I've got this. It's me. I never miss a detail."
Harry stopped and looked over at Ron, for the first time noticing the black bag hanging over his shoulder. He raised an eyebrow again. They hadn't discussed bringing anything, especially not a bag full of things. Ron had been downright excited when Harry had finally caved and agreed to this, going into a full rundown of everything they needed. He was regretting tuning the redhead out.
"I feel like I'm going to regret asking this," started Harry, pointing towards the bag, "but what's in the bag?"
Ron's face lit up with excitement as he unzipped the bag.
"All the tools of the trade, my man, tools of the trade." He pulled out a grappling hook.
"Grappling hook."
Harry raised an eyebrow. "Where did you get that? More importantly, what, exactly, is that for?"
"Oh, well initially I thought we could rappel down from the ceiling and hoist the couch up that way."
Harry nodded his head. "Uh huh. And the fact that the building is three levels while the couch is on the second?"
Ron waved his hand dismissively.
"Details," he reached into his bag and pulled out a length of black rope. "Rope, to get the couch up, naturally."
"Right. Naturally."
Ron continued to rummage in the bag. "Some trip wire, duck tape, protein bars in case I get hungry, oh, and this."
Ron pulled out a black flare gun…and promptly pulled the trigger. The flare shot out over the campus lawn, its red glow lighting up the darkness like a lighthouse in fog. Silence reigned for several seconds before Harry turned fully towards Ron, murder in his eyes.
"Ron, why the fuck would you pack a flare gun?"
"To call for backup?" Ron tried with a shrug.
"From WHO!?" shouted Harry.
"Hey guys, what's up?"
Harry turned around and saw Fred and George standing there, matching smiles on their faces…both dressed from head to toe in black, complete with matching face pain. A sigh escaped his lips. He heard a noise behind him and turned back around, the flashlights of campus security making their way towards them.
"Shit," he said, looking towards the row of bushes closer towards the computer center. He gave a glance towards the three Weasley brothers. "Quick, into the bushes."
Without a second thought, he grabbed Ron's bag and dropped it into the nearest bin next to them, ignoring Ron's cry of "but I need my tools!" before pulling the larger man quickly across the grounds and behind the bushes. The twins followed closely behind. As they hid behind the bushes, campus security investigating the commotion, Harry pinched the bridge of his nose again.
"We stealing couches tonight?" asked Fred.
"How do you know about that?" Harry hissed, sending a glare at Ron. George nodded towards his younger brother.
"Our dear Ronniekins said the flare was our cue that you guys needed backup, since we had planned to get burgers from that hole in the wall around here," he explained, breaking out into a smile. "We knew he'd fumble it somewhere and it would go off, so here we are."
"So," Fred cut in, "we stealing couches tonight?"
Harry nodded.
"Sick, what's the vibe?" asked George.
Fred nodded. "Lawson?"
"Sette?"
"Chaise?"
"Wait, this isn't for a girl, is it?" George pondered.
"The blonde one?" Fred guessed.
"Oh Harry, please don't say loveseat."
"So cliche," they said together with deep sighs and matching looks of disappointment.
Harry pinched the bridge of his nose, yet again, and counted to ten. This was stupid, completely, utterly, stupid, and yet here he was; hiding from campus police with three wonderfully stupid friends.
His head hurt and they hadn't even made it inside.
He popped his head out from behind the bushes and watched as the two campus officers walked away into the distance, satisfied nothing was amiss.
"Come on, let's go before I change my mind."
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They made their way into the computer center and up to the second floor, Ron moving between decorative plants and various walls as if he were dodging a laser grid.
"Is he...is he humming the theme song from Mission Impossible?" asked Fred.
Harry sighed as Ron combat rolled from behind a chair to the opposite wall. His large frame caused him to come up short, and he fell onto his back with a thud.
"Yeah, I think he is."
"Very stealth," George commented as the twins followed Harry up the stairs.
Finally, after Ron insisted on "clearing the room" with George "watching their six," they came to their destination.
The couch.
Correction, her couch.
"Seriously?" Ron said as they looked down at it, a disappointed look on his face. "I've heard about this couch for damn near a year and this is what I'm greeted with? Kind of a let down, no?"
Harry laughed. "Never let Fleur hear you say that. She would probably cut you."
"I'm not sc- actually, you're probably right," Ron said, moving to the other end of the couch. "Are you ready to do this?"
"Did you get the vehicle?"
Ron raised an eyebrow.
"What vehicle?" he asked, causing Harry to sigh again.
"When we talked about this you said you could get a vehicle to bring the couch to her place," he said, "remember?"
Ron shook his head.
"No, but I'm pretty sure the day you told me I had a huge hangover. It'll be fine. We'll be fine. Her place isn't far. We'll just walk it over there." Ron bent down, gripping the bottom of the couch.
"We have the flatbed," George pointed out, causing Harry to turn around.
"I'm guessing you're the source of this vehicle Ron was supposed to procure?"
George nodded.
"Yeah, our dad has a small, beat up flatbed he keeps at a relative's place out in the country. Fred and I needed to move some sound equipment the other day so we grabbed it over the weekend."
Harry nodded before motioning for the twins to grab a corner. "Let's just get this over with. I'm already regretting everything and the night is still young."
After a three count, they all lifted the couch and Ron let out a groan.
"Bloody fucking hell. What did they make this out of?"
Harry shot him a look as they began descending the stairs.
"It'll be fine," he said, in his best imitation of Ron, "we'll just walk it over there."
"You two fight like an old married couple," Fred pointed out as they continued their journey out to the parking lot.
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"Right here," said Harry, indicating for George to put the vehicle in park outside of Fleur's building. It was dark, dim streetlights and the soft glow from windows were the only source of light. As they unloaded the couch from the back, Fred glanced over to the door.
"Uh, did you guys measure the frame and the couch?"
Harry sighed and let his head drop as they placed the couch at the bottom of the steps leading up to the door of the building. He'd been so focused on Fleur's graduation, and Ron had seemed so eager to help, that he'd just assumed Ron had followed through. It seemed he'd placed too much faith in the lovable oaf. Hermione's words filtered in through his mind.
"I don't condone stealing, Harry, but if you're going to do so, at least make sure it's done right. Knowing you, you'll stress out about what Fleur will think and, I don't know, let Ron plan some key parts of it."
Hermione could never hear about this. Ever.
"Ron, did you measure the door?" he asked. He knew the answer, but it was only polite to ask. Ron rubbed the back of his neck.
"You see, Harry, what had happened was…"
Harry pinched the bridge of his nose for the umpteenth time.
George tilted his head to the side, looking back and forth between the door and the couch. He scratched the back of his head.
"It might fit? If we twisted it?"
Harry looked up, his head pounding and the voice in the back of his brain simply laughing at him. He just shrugged his shoulders, defeated. This is what he'd been reduced to. This was supposed to have been simple. Get the couch and get it into Fleur's apartment. No flare guns or tactical gear. Just a quick grab of the furniture and delivery. Now he was trying to jam a square peg in a round hole.
"Fuck it," he said tiredly, bending over to grip the side of the couch, "let's get this fucking thing in the door even if we have to kick it."
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Fleur grabbed the avocado from the fridge and began to cut it. She needed to eat something on the go or she'd be late for work. As she worked the knife she looked over to the small living area and frowned at the mail-order couch sitting there. She'd been upset to leave the comfort of her couch, so much so that she'd tried to purchase it from the school.
Nobody could tell her who to speak with, so she'd been forced to part with it. She still remembers the last lingering glance she'd given it as she'd left the computer center for the final time.
She'd immediately started researching, of course. She'd had Harry help her lift it and pull the manufacturer name. Unfortunately for her, every avenue she went down, every lead she found, every scrap of hope that all corners of the internet gave her led back to one place.
Discontinued.
Harry had given her a few options for alternatives, he'd been incredibly helpful with the move, but even though her current couch was comfortable, it just wasn't the one.
She dropped the knife into the sink and wrapped her toast in a napkin before heading towards the door, locking it behind her as she climbed down the stairs. She took a bite from her breakfast just as she pulled open the door to her building, the sunlight hitting her face, only to stop dead. Her eyes went wide.
There, on the sidewalk, was the couch. Her couch. In all it's comfortable glory.
With Ron and Harry sleeping in what she could only assume were incredibly uncomfortable positions on it.
She purposefully slammed the door behind her, stirring them both into action.
"Whassat?" Ron said, shooting up and looking around. Spotting her, his eyes went wide. Harry, she noticed, at least kept his seat. His wide eyed look of confusion mixed with embarrassment told her enough when he locked eyes with her though. She smirked.
He always did look good when embarrassed.
"Morning Fleur," said Ron casually, as if they hadn't been sleeping on a couch she could only assume they stole.
"Good morning, Ron. Good morning Harry."
Harry flushed, but raised an eyebrow as the sleep finally drifted from his mind.
"Is that avocado toast?" he asked. "Such a hipster thing to eat first thing in the morning."
Before she could answer, Ron cut in. "Harry, it's not a hipster thing, there's so many possible applications."
Harry looked over at his friend with an unamused expression.
"You make it the same way every single time. You didn't even bother to cut it up after you pitted it last time."
Ron shook his head. "Nah, that's because you only see me eat it when I'm in a rush. My preferred choice is with arugula and sesame seeds."
Fleur raised an eyebrow at Ron's statement. That was… a good choice. Tasty too, and shocking, considering the source. Harry cocked his head to the side.
"Arugula? That's like lettuce, right?"
Ron shook his head with a frown. "Ah, see, that's a common misconception. Rocket is actually part of the brassica family of plants. It's more closely related to mustard. It's got a peppery taste, but is known to have a somewhat nutty taste as well. It's the perfect topping for a bit of avocado toast. Or on a pizza."
Fleur and Harry looked at each other with matching puzzled expressions, though neither spoke, Ron's knowledge on the subject stunned them into silence. Who would have thought Ron Weasley, Sportsball prodigy, was such an authority on avocado toppings? Before either could formulate a response, Ron's stomach growled loudly.
"Well, that's my cue. There's a good breakfast place around the corner from here that has fantastic bacon. I'll leave you two lovebirds to sort this out."
Harry watched him walk away, not a single care in his mind that there was still a couch on the sidewalk in the middle of the city. He pinched the bridge of his nose and sunk deeper into the furniture. Fleur sent him a questioning gaze, taking another bite of her breakfast.
"Harry, what possessed you to do this?"
He looked down, suddenly embarrassed, yet no less proud that they'd managed to get the couch as far as they had. Even despite their…less than stellar ideas. Or poor planning. Or braindead attempts to make it into the building.
"Well, you told me you didn't want anything for your graduation after I tried to buy you that ribbon."
"I don't like ribbons," she reminded him. Nodding, he gestured around him.
"So I thought, with you being stressed about your dad threatening to cut you off, this was the next best thing."
She raised an eyebrow. "You thought a little theft of university property was the next best thing?"
He nodded.
"I like to think of it as a thoughtful gesture made out of love from a brokeass college student rather than what it's true name is, but yeah."
Fleur sighed but plopped down on the couch next to him, snuggling up to him and kissing his cheek. She couldn't stay mad at him, despite the shenanigans that he no doubt had to pull to make this happen. The earnest look on his face made her understand that he'd done it from a place of caring. It was adorable.
"Thank you, Harry, that was sweet. Stupid, but sweet."
She stood and offered her hand, pulling him up and handing him the key to her door.
"Go inside and get some sleep. I know you don't have class today and your shift doesn't start until this evening. You look like shit."
He laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, it wasn't the best idea in hindsight. I need to take care of the couch though…"
"I'll handle it," she interrupted before making a shooing motion. "Go, my bed is calling your name. There's fruit and salad in the fridge if you get hungry."
"I'll handle dinner to make up for it?" he asked and she nodded, pecking him lightly on the cheek.
As he walked into the building she sighed again, looking down at the couch that she had laid claim to so very long ago. It was stupid of them to steal it, yes, but she still considered it hers by right. Making a quick decision, she pulled out her phone, tapped it a few times, before putting it against her ear.
"Hi Luc. Would you mind doing me a favor? Can you send a couple guys with a flatbed to my apartment to pick something up from outside? It's a piece of furniture that I'd like to put in storage…"
