Part 3 to September and a Sickle. Rating's a liiiitttllleee higher for this one, on the upper verge of T, I think.
~550 words
"Granger, is that...two tables away from us...is that Harry Potter in a wig? And why is Weasley dressed like a woman?"
There are many things Hermione would like to say in response to that question. Unfortunately, they're in a public place, so she can't. Also (and also unfortunately), the two men (children) in question are her best friends, and so the proper thing to do is to cover for their idiocy, even though they are spending their on-duty auror time by spying on her date with Draco.
...Children.
And so, after taking three deep breaths to ensure that she doesn't storm over to their table and explode, she primly responds: "I'll have you know that members of the Auror Department undergo extensive training in the art of subterfuge, precluding any possibility of them being detected on a mission. Therefore, it is highly unlikely that Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley – two very qualified aurors – would be uncovered so easily by a member of the public. Additionally, those two would know better than to waste their time as government employees to spy on their friend. They would also know that if they ever made such a rude and overbearing attempt of intrusion into my personal life – even if it was committed under the misguided notion of being 'for my own good' – then I would take their bollocks and rip them off with a pair of pliers. And I would do it slowly."
It's possible that she sounds a little (just a tiny bit) irate by the end of her speech, because the woman sitting two tables away – the same woman which bears such a striking resemblance to the youngest male Weasley – suddenly starts coughing very hard. The man in the wig – who most certainly is not Harry Potter – begins to pat her on the back sympathetically.
"Hmm." Draco sounds unconvinced and much too amused. "Maybe you're right."
"What?" Hermione gapes. Her date actually fell for this bullshite?
Draco nods, grinning like the infamous Chesire cat. "Yup. I think this has nothing to do with you...or us for that matter. Maybe you just don't know your two friends all that well. Maybe this is a weekly outing for them: a nice romantic date, away from the eyes of the press and the ceaseless demands of their tyrannical wives. I always did think they were too attached to each other."
Now the man in the wig is coughing too. Draco leans in and continues his sly torture. "Are they always so overprotective?" he purrs quietly. "And can you just imagine their reactions if they found out that we're already sha–"
"MENU!" Hermione practically screams, interrupting him. "Look, the menus are here! Oh, I love menus! Don't you love menus?! Look, so much good food in these wonderful menus! What do you want? I want the duck. Two ducks, please! And a bottle of wine. What– which kind? The one with the highest alcohol content, thank you."
Two tables away, the woman, who is wearing one of Fred and George's extendable ears, whispers to her companion, "Harry! Psst! Harry! What did he mean when she cut him off? What was he going to say?! They're already sha– what? Shaming? Sharping?!"
Harry Potter, looking redder than a cooked lobster, just shakes his head, downing a shot of firewhiskey. "You don't wanna know," he mumbles, already so sorry he'd come here. "You don't wanna know."
These silly ideas always come to me as I'm falling asleep and then I have to get up and scribble down at least the basics, because otherwise I know I'll forget D: