As lunch time approached, Harry couldn't help but feel a twinge of anticipation. He was eagerly awaiting whatever surprises Ron had in store for his Stag Night. And, actually, he'd been rather on his guard all day, just knowing that Ron would try something at work.
Kicking at a spot on his floor idly, Harry felt slightly confused that his best friend hadn't shocked him with something first thing in the morning—more specifically something of the fluffy pink and purple variety. Ron had been acting rather subdued over the past week, and Harry assumed it was probably due to the fight he'd had with Hermione. Harry knew he was being selfish, but he truly hoped that Ron would perk up for the Stag Night later; otherwise it wouldn't be any fun whatsoever.
Glancing at the watch Mum-Weasley had presented him with on his seventeenth birthday, Harry saw it was just about time to head down to the Leaky Cauldron for lunch. He was stacking his completed work when a trill of trumpets filled the office, and he recognized it as the traditional notification of an incoming delivery from Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes. Harry's eyebrows shot up to the top of his head as he felt the smile creep over his face—Ron apparently did have a surprise in store. Although, he had to admit it was with a bit of reservation that he was anticipating this…after all it was something that involved a delivery from George.
There was a loud pop in his office, and Harry's smile almost immediately turned into a scowl. Pink and purple squeaking bits of fluff began to fill his office by the dozens, causing Harry to make a break for the exit before he was crushed by the weight of the Pygmy Puffs. He was vaguely aware of the fact that not a small number of the creatures were clinging to his robes as he flung the door open. He caught sight of his traitorous best friend, propping himself up against the wall of the hallway, and laughing his head off.
"Weasley, I am going to KILL YOU!" Harry pulled his door shut with a resounding slam, and tried very hard to convey how irritated he was to Ron with a glare.
That lasted for all of about five seconds.
When Harry saw how gleeful Ron was at the success of his prank, he couldn't help but start to laugh with him. Relief flooded his system at the ease apparent in his best friend's face. It was an affirmation for Harry that no matter how things were going in their respective love lives, the two of them would always be able to laugh together.
Harry took off his glasses to wipe the tears of laughter that stained his face, and felt Ron clap a hand on his shoulder. Two of the 'passengers' on Harry's robes were dislodged and gave an emphatic squeak as they went flying. The friends glanced at one another and promptly burst into another fit of laughter. Standing there, covered in tiny squeaking animals, Harry was forced to remember when the whole Pygmy Puff joke had began . . .
Four Months Earlier
It had been an extremely long day, Harry thought, as he let his eyes scan his desk and the piles of parchment he'd just finished going through. This was the part of his job that he hated, with a passion. Endless stacks of paperwork entered and exited his office every day, all needing his signature or at least for him to go over them.
But today his mind hadn't really been into it. Not that it ever completely was, he had to admit. He'd struggled with his attention span all day, fighting images that made him blush, grin stupidly, and squirm in his chair.
Just yesterday, Ginny had finally been told that after more than a year of struggling on the reserve team, she'd earned a place as a starting Chaser. And, after a celebratory dinner at a fancy Muggle restaurant, Harry had taken Ginny back to Grimmauld Place and they'd…celebrated in other ways. Several times.
At lunch time he'd locked his door, leaned back in his chair with his feet propped up on his desk, heedless of whatever they may be wrinkling, and let the daydreams follow their path.
The temptation to apparate directly to Holyhead, find Ginny, and resume where they'd left off this morning was almost too much and Harry had been forced to take a brisk walk through the halls to distract himself.
But it was almost time to leave for the day and Harry was more than happy to get out of his stuffy office. He'd never gotten used to the windows showing what really wasn't there; knowing that the Ministry truly was underground and the beautiful sunny day outside wasn't real at all. In fact, it had been raining earlier when he'd come in to work.
"This just came for you, Mr. Potter."
Martha, his secretary, bustled into the office and in her usually efficient manner, deposited a fresh round of parchment and gathered what he'd already worked on.
"Tell Ginny congratulations for me," she smiled. "She's worked hard to get that spot."
Harry grinned and nodded. "She has. If you're interested, she sometimes gets free tickets."
The older woman smiled and shook her head with a laugh. "I wouldn't know a Quaffle from a Bludger, Mr. Potter. But my niece just might be interested. She's idolized Ginny ever since they put her on the team."
Harry couldn't help but feel a spark of pride bubble up inside him at the words about his fiancé. She was amazing and now the whole world was getting to know part of the reason why.
"I'll keep that in mind."
"If there's nothing further, Mr. Potter, I'll be finishing up and going home now."
"That's fine, Martha. Thank you." He hated that she still called him 'Mr. Potter' but that was a battle that had been fought and lost, spectacularly, when she'd first come to work for him.
He watched her leave the office and turned his attention to the things she had brought in. More paperwork—well, that would just have to wait until tomorrow.
However, a lilac colored envelope caught his attention. Very feminine handwriting and a scent that was uniquely Ginny graced it and Harry grinned. Ginny rarely sent him anything at work, although she sometimes left notes hidden around his flat.
He slipped a finger into the sealed envelope and opened it quickly, his eyes scanning the stationary inside, growing wider with each line. He could feel the back of his neck heat up, and vaguely wondered if Magical Maintenance had increased the heating charms in this portion of the Ministry.
"Bloody hell," he whispered as he reached the end of the highly scandalous and erotic note. He immediately began reading it again after shooting a quick glance toward his open door.
It was then that he noticed another, smaller piece of paper tucked behind the first. It looked as if it had been torn from another piece, as if scribbled out on something important and then ripped out and sent to him.
The heat in his neck immediately transferred to his cheeks as he saw what Ginny had sketched out there. A fluffy Pygmy Puff was drawn in purple ink with the words, 'My Harry' written above it and decorated with little hearts.
"Damn woman," Harry hissed and glared at the picture.
It had been something Ginny had teased him about ever since they'd become lovers. Always, after their vigorous love making, Harry would cuddle up to Ginny's back and place his chin on her shoulder, nuzzling her neck and placing soft kisses there. It was something that gave him great comfort to love her in that way, his arms still holding her and his heart beating against her soft skin.
At first she'd giggled and cuddled back into him. Then she'd laughed outright as his breath tickled her neck and compared him to her Pygmy Puff, Arnold, who used to ride on her shoulder around the Gryffindor Common Room. Apparently, he'd been one to cuddle as well.
Harry had laughed it off, of course. But the joke had continued until it had been a running thing between them. After sex, Ginny would ask for her 'Pygmy Puff time' and Harry would grumble until he finally gave in to her looks of pouting and pulled her to him. Often times this would lead to round two, but it was something that just the two of them shared.
Even as his face continued to heat, Harry couldn't help but look at the drawing again. Slightly scandalized, Harry realized the picture had been drawn on, and removed from, a page of Ginny's Quidditch playbook. She'd probably been bored in a long-running training meeting and had let her thoughts wander, most likely along the same lines Harry's had earlier today.
He'd have to pay her back for that, he vowed.
"Oi, Harry!"
His head snapped up to see Ron leaning in the doorway.
"You about ready there?" Ron asked as he shook his head. "I've been standing here for a few minutes."
"Yeah, erm, just…just give me a minute," Harry choked out, hurriedly shuffling Ginny's note and drawing into his desk drawer. It wouldn't do to have her brother, and his best mate, reading something…like that! He valiantly tried to keep the blush off of his face as he rearranged more paperwork into piles, preparing it to go into his desk to be locked away.
"You feeling alright?" Ron asked, a concerned look darkening his features. "You seem a bit flushed."
"Yeah, erm, it's…nothing." Harry waved him off and gathered his cloak after placing a strong locking charm on his desk.
"You sure?" Ron asked again, looking him up and down.
"I'm fine, Ron," Harry stated a bit more forcefully than he'd meant to. He sighed and shrugged. "Sorry, it's just been a long day."
Ron studied him for a minute before shrugging to himself and clapping Harry on the back. "Let's go then."
Harry nodded and made his way out to the hall, waiting for Ron to follow. However, when he turned back, Ron was bent over, picking up a small piece of parchment that had trickled to the floor.
"Forgot something, mate," he said innocently.
Harry's eyes widened and it felt as if time slowed down. Ron's face went from simply curious to shock to a wide, evil grin. And there was nothing Harry could do to stop him from seeing the drawing.
"Accio!" he snarled and the paper was snatched out of Ron's hands.
"What the—"
"I don't want to talk about it," Harry said as he snatched it out of mid-air and stuffed it into his pocket." Oh, Ginny would pay now.
"Harry the Pygmy Puff?" Ron grinned with a raised eyebrow. Harry's head fall back and he sighed up to the ceiling. "Do I even want to know?"
"It's just…this thing between Ginny and I, alright? A joke."
Ron appraised him with a knowing smirk. "Right. Well, then, it's been a long day." He brushed past a startled Harry.
Was Ron really planning to let this go? Harry couldn't believe it, he'd never been that lucky in his life. He stumbled after Ron, scowling darkly at his friend's back until he caught up and they were even. They continued in silence all the way to the Atrium, queuing up for the apparition point.
"Ron…listen, you're not going to say anything—"
"Relax, Harry," Ron smirked at his panicked friend. "I'm not the sort of bloke to take the mickey out of someone for years, am I?"
Harry's relief that the subject might just disappear forever faded. Ron was exactly that sort of bloke.
"Ron—"
But Ron only waggled his eyebrows as he stepped into the circle designated for disapparation and disappeared.
"I'm going to kill her," Harry sighed as he too left the Ministry for the day.
Harry was returned to the present by a myriad of pops filling the air. With a startled expression, he noticed that all of the Pygmy Puffs that had covered his robes were disappearing. He shot a quizzical look at his friend, surprised that the animals, and the source of his embarrassment, were disappearing so quickly. Ron's customary lop-sided grin spread over his face, and with a graceful shrug he launched into an explanation.
"As much fun as it was to picture you reigning as king of the fluff balls for a day, I didn't think you would be too amused by the notion. So I arranged it with George and Percy that after about five minutes of fluffy fun here at the office, the lot would be delivered to patients at the children's ward of St. Mungo's and to the kids at the Honorary Fred Weasley Orphanage. But if you miss them too much, I could always have them brought back. . ." Harry immediately threw up his hands to forestall any such thought on Ron's part. As he chuckled softly, he threw a companionable arm around Ron's shoulder. It was so like the red-head to ensure that the Pygmy Puffs would find willing homes.
"Hungry? I was just about to head down to the Leaky Cauldron for a bite to eat; you're welcome to join me, unless of course you've got plans with Hermione, then—"
"No!" Ron hurriedly cut Harry off. "That is…Hermione had something she had to take care of, so I'm free for lunch today. C'mon, we'll go down to get something to eat and you can continue your foolish attempts to find out what's going on for your Stag Party." Though he hid it well, the look of pain that had flitted over Ron's face had not escaped Harry's notice. It was quite clear, however, that Ron didn't want to go into whatever might have caused Hermione to change her lunch plans.
Harry'd been having a great day. Despite another 'Pygmy Puff' incident, he'd returned from lunch wearing a huge grin and couldn't wait for this afternoon. It seemed a bit childish to be so excited over something so…normal as a get-together with his friends. But maybe it was the fact that he knew how much work Ron had put into the evening and he appreciated it. One thing was for sure, Harry was going to have to work awfully hard to top this for Ron's Stag Night.
Somehow, Ron had made arrangements for them to use the Hogwarts Quidditch Pitch for a few hours right after work. Ron had shown up at his office at precisely five, holding a rucksack and Harry's Firebolt II.
Harry had been thrilled at the thought of getting to really ride again. Sure he'd played often at the Burrow, but it just wasn't the same as racing around a real pitch, using real balls. It was made even better because he was back at Hogwarts and playing with his best mates. Harry was really having the most fun he could remember having in a long time.
The rest of the Weasley boys had shown up as well as Seamus, Dean and Neville and a scratch game had begun. Harry had been even more astounded when Oliver Wood, Lee Jordan, Dad-Weasley and Kingsley Shackelbolt walked up totting brooms over their shoulders. The game had gotten more serious then, but also more fun as the rules simply didn't seem to exist. His stomach hurt from laughing so much at the cries of dismay, the excessive use of shoulders and the blatant cheating that took place. Over it all came Lee's highly biased and hilarious commentary.
In the end, the game had dissolved when Harry and Charlie had raced for the snitch with Harry coming up victorious.
"Alright, blokes, everyone who's staying, follow me!" Ron had bellowed and began jogging toward the changing rooms.
"If he thinks we're all showering together…" Seamus teased and it set all the men off into more rounds of laughter. Nevertheless, they all followed, chatting all the way.
He was caught up in an argument with George over whether Beaters were more important than Seekers—something the two of them had been doing since Harry first joined Gryffindor's Quidditch team—and didn't notice the changes at first. Harry stopped completely, noticing the room that he'd spent more than a few mornings in during his school years was no more. Gone were the grey metal lockers which kept all their Quidditch uniforms and the chalkboards that had once sported Wood's elaborate playbook. Even the musty, sweaty, teenage-boy smell was gone.
All replaced with something that greatly resembled the Gryffindor Common Room.
Harry spun, searching for Ron, who stood near a large table that was covered with bottles of butterbeer, piles of snack foods and what looked like some of his favorite dishes from the Hogwarts kitchens. He opened his mouth to say something…anything to thank Ron for all that this meant to him. But no words would come.
"To Harry," Ron cheered as he lifted a bottle out toward his friend. "To his last night of freedom before he, willingly I might add, slips on those chains and shackles of marriage."
"Here, here!" came the cheers all around. Harry grinned, oddly touched that they were all toasting him.
"Don't get too cocky, little brother," George put in as he clapped Ron on the shoulder. "If I remember right, you too are headed down that path."
Someone pushed a bottle into Harry's hands and he stood still, flinching when Ron's face darkened a bit. But then the moment was gone and Ron leaned his head back and took a large swallow from his own bottle.
"Harry," Neville clapped him on the shoulder and Harry was distracted away from Ron as Neville steered him to a replica of the armchair that had been a favorite of Harry's school days. Reminded once more of the effort Ron had put into the evening, Harry decided he would confront his friend later, once he had thoroughly enjoyed his Stag Night.
Ron was pleased at how the evening was turning out so far. The Quidditch match had been nothing short of brilliant, if he did say so himself. For a while it had almost felt like they were teenagers again. As he taught his father the lyrics to Weasley is Our King he noticed Harry making a dive for the Snitch. If he hadn't known just how skilled his best friend was, Ron might have accused Charlie of letting them win. The look on Charlie's face thwarted any such notion—Ron's older brother was simply stunned at having been bested by someone he considered another 'kid brother.' It had made the victory all the sweeter.
And using the changing rooms, which he had to admit had been Ginny's brainstorm, had taken care of the need for extra security to keep the press away. He could almost hear Hermione in his head: "Well, it's not like they could Apparate here, I mean you are on the grounds of Hogwarts. But you would know that if you ever read. . ." Ron felt his stomach clench uncomfortably—it was too painful to think of Hermione right now. He knew he would need to work out an apology, but that could come later, after he'd seen to the rest of the party. What he needed now, was a distraction. . .
"Thank Merlin for butterbeer," he thought as he took another bottle from the constantly-refilling table and made a mental note to thank Kreacher personally for all his hard work. And the other elves as well. He snickered thinking that Hermione would be proud of him. And then he remembered, yet again, that they weren't talking right now. Damn that woman! Did she know how she infected his every waking moment, making it damnably difficult to properly enjoy the fruits of his weeks' long labor?
His eyes scanned the party again, making sure that everyone was being entertained and no one was lacking a beverage or something to eat. This was what he'd been talking about earlier. This party had been real work. And Hermione had just not appreciated it, thinking that it had been so easy to 'throw together' something. But it wasn't.
There had been the selection of location, the choice of food and then coordinating the schedules of some of the most popular 'heroes' from the Second War. It had been a bloody nightmare.
Ron had been frantic all week, making sure no one had been left out, even arranging for portkeys to take those who'd been drinking too heavily home for the night. And then there was all the coordinating with Kreacher; although he'd probably been more in the way there than anything. The elf, who'd come to respect and care for Harry very much over the years, had thrown himself into the preparations with a vigor that slightly frightened Ron.
And Harry seemed to be having the time of his life. He was laughing and joking with everyone. He did seem to be avoiding the heavier drinks, but that was fine with Ron.
A loud roar of laughter filled the room and Ron grinned as Hagrid righted Harry from where a huge stuffed Pygmy Puff had appeared out of nowhere and tackled him. George waggled his eyebrows in Ron's direction and Ron had to laugh. The fuzzy creatures had been appearing and then disappearing with frightening regularity through the whole party. It seemed to happen when Harry was most relaxed and seemed to have forgotten about the last appearance.
Ron was fairly sure only he and George were in on the joke, but everyone seemed to understand that the balls of fur meant something and enjoyed the laughter and redness of Harry's face.
Once Harry had vanished the offending toy and brushed the pale pink fuzz off of his jumper, he shot Ron a venomous look and continued on with his conversation.
Yes, the party was turning out to be a huge success. It was only too bad that Ron didn't feel as if he could share in that completely. He was continually distracted by thoughts of a certain prissy know-it-all; on the one hand, mad as hell that she would belittle his role as best man and on the other, desperately wanting her approval of all his hard work.
"Time for gifts!" George called out as the evening grew later.
Shaken from his reverie, Harry shot upright with a start. "Gifts?" he asked, feeling a bit panicked. "I didn't…you really all didn't have to."
"Nonsense, Harry," Percy stated, pushing Harry back into his armchair when he'd leaned forward to try and stand. A small pile of brightly wrapped gifts levitated over to settle in Harry's lap.
"We should have done these before Dad-Weasley left," Harry noted absently as he studied the boxes.
"Erm, no," Ron shook his head and then cleared his throat. "I'm sure Dad is just fine. Besides, he and Kingsley both said they'd see you at the Ministry later, Harry."
Harry was about to question him when he noticed the red tinge to Ron's ears. Perhaps opening these sort of…gifts was better left to when his father-in-law and the Minister of Magic had already left. Suddenly, the significance of the gifts seemed much more.
"Erm…" There was something about opening those kind of gifts in front of the five brothers of his fiancé that seemed just . . . wrong. And getting those kinds of gifts from them . . . Harry didn't want to think about it.
"Just open the bloody things, Harry," Charlie teased, slapping him on the back. "They can't be that bad, can they."
His face heating in a blush to rival a Weasley, Harry nodded and tore into the first box.
"That one's from me and Dean," Seamus informed him. Somehow that didn't bolster Harry's confidence as he found a wooden box. Inside were small vials of potions in all different colors of the rainbow. He glanced up to find Seamus beaming proudly.
"There's all kinds of different ones in there. Some change your appearance slightly and some give you, erm, more…"
"Stamina," Dean supplied with a salacious grin. "Not that you need it, eh Harry?"
As hearty male laughter and ribald suggestions filled the air, Harry quickly closed the case and shuffled it down to the floor, muttering his thanks. He cleared his throat several times and attacked another present. Inside he found a beautiful silver frame with a picture of he and Ginny sitting beneath a tree near the Burrow. The two of them sat with hands entwined, and every so often the Ginny in the picture would contentedly sigh and cuddle in to picture-Harry's chest. In turn, picture-Harry would gently kiss the top of her head, and the two of them would then flash a grin to the camera. It was a very natural moment, and Harry tried in vain to remember when it had been taken.
"It's…great," Harry complimented to Bill.
The older man smiled down at him, eyes tinged with understanding. "Fleur and I thought you'd like that. You can put it on your desk at the office."
"What are you, a woman?" George scoffed in disgust while grabbing the photograph and depositing it further away. Harry chuckled with everyone else and tried to convey his appreciation of the gift to Bill with a smile and a nod of his head. He seemed to understand and grinned in return.
"I'd have gotten you something a bit more…well, yeah, but Fleur assures me that what she's getting for Ginny's Hen Party will more than make up for it."
Harry's eyes widened and he almost choked on the swallow of butterbeer he'd just taken. The thought of Ginny getting something from Fleur…the French part-Veela…made his brain fuzz a bit. His choking fit set of another round of hilarity through the room, as all the men seemed to follow his line of thought. A muttered "Merlin's Beard!" from Neville caused more jokes to be tossed around, and it was quite a few minutes before George could gather everyone's attention once more.
"Next," George urged, nudging a small rectangular package along to Harry.
Harry wasn't sure his skin could take heating any more tonight as he caught sight of the book that was contained in the wrapping. "1001 Nights, 1001 Positions: Using Magic To Enhance Your Performance," he read out slowly. Laughter broke out around him and he wasn't sure whether they were laughing at him or whether it was meant to be some sort of joke.
"What?!? It's a good book," Neville defended, his cheeks pinkening.
"Neville?" Harry asked, his jaw dropping open. He could have understood if such a book had come from Percy the Practical, but Neville?! Harry tried to picture his friend reading such a text and his brain simply refused to cooperate.
"Well, it is," Neville stated plainly and Harry could only nod in agreement. His brain was becoming a bit numb from the thoughts swirling in his head. Add to them the picture that it was Neville and Luna who would have been using the books suggestions…yes, well, Harry decided to stop that train of thought right there.
A few more packages followed containing various products full of veiled and not-so-veiled innuendo. Charlie's gift of a new dragon-hide leather jacket seemed innocent enough until he found the silk scarves that filled the pockets. His eyes had gone even wider as he shot a glance to the second oldest Weasley boy. With a wink, Charlie informed him that he thought Harry might have needed some help 'not being in control of every damn situation.' He had wanted to die on the spot. George and Percy had gifted him with several things from their 'adults-only' line. Having seen them in the store, Harry's mouth went dry at the images the flitted through his mind.
"All right, time out you lot," he managed to croak out. "You all do remember that I am marrying your baby sister. You know, charming little red-head that you all were oh-so-protective of earlier?"
"Funny you should ask, oh soon-to-be-brother in law. There is a method to our madness." Percy pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and fixed Harry with a level look. "We're not stupid; we know you and Ginny love each other—and that you can't keep your hands off one another. So instead of getting mad about it, we've decided to make sure that you both . . . enjoy married life as much as possible."
Harry felt Charlie's meaty hand land on his shoulder and glanced behind him to see the older man bearing a grin that didn't entirely reach his eyes. "Because, Potter, if we ever get any inkling that Ginny is anything short of ecstatic in this marriage, we'll kill you."
Taking a moment to look at the serious expressions that suddenly covered every freckled face in the room, Harry burst out laughing. He couldn't help himself, and had to take heaping gulps of air in order to begin his explanation. "If you all think it's you I'm going to be worried about, you're barking! In the first place, I'd never do anything to hurt Ginny, and in the second place, if I ever did I'm pretty sure she'd kill me before any of you even got the chance!"
A tense moment passed before George snorted as he took another shot of Ogden's finest. "The man has a point, if Ginny's send her Bat Bogey Hex at me and Fred for melting one of her dolls, imagine what she'd do if she thought Harry was mistreating her!"
The laughter that filled the room was purely male, and Harry grabbed the next present from the stack. A hastily dashed card let him know it was from Ron, and when he opened it he found yet another frame, although this one had many pictures in it. It was a collection of pictures of him and Ron over the years. From a shot taken by Dean with a Muggle camera their first year, all the way to the clowning around shot at their 'graduation party' from Auror training. Tears pricked green eyes as Harry ran a thumb over the edge of the frame before he blinked them away. He sought out Ron's gaze and sent him a huge smile.
"Well, I just thought that you know, with you getting married and all. . ." Ron's cheeks went pink to match his ears, ". . . I wanted you to know that it doesn't change the fact that you're my best mate. Even if you are marrying my ruddy sister for some reason, which takes more Gryffindor courage than chasing after those Horcruxes seventh year . . ."
As everyone else laughed, Harry caught Ron's eye once more. He hoped that his appreciation showed in his gaze, as well as a silent promise that just because he was getting married didn't mean he'd forget Ron. This evening certainly had been emotional and Harry wasn't sure how much more he could take when Ron levitated the final package to him.
"Last one, mate."
Harry only nodded woodenly and ripped off the red paper with snitches whizzing around it. He sighed a bit in relief when he found a simple pair of black silk boxers inside. They weren't so bad. In fact, the fabric felt rather nice. Ginny'd been after him for a long time to get a pair for himself. What would they feel like on, he wondered as he fingered the silky material. Being somewhat distracted, he missed grabbing them as George snatched them from his hands and swung them around on his finger, wolf whistles and jeering filling the room.
Harry laughed and made a half-hearted grab for them. The box on his lap shifted and something peeked out from underneath the white tissue paper the underwear had been wrapped in. Harry grabbed it and peered at what appeared to be a photograph of some sort. Except that it was very dark and only a faint glow from what appeared to be black boxer shorts could be seen. Pulling the photograph so close that it was nearly touching his nose, Harry gapped at it. Glowing pygmy puffs could be seen dancing around the shorts in the photo.
And then it flashed to a lit shot.
Harry grunted and his eyes flew wide as the true photograph was revealed to him. There was Ginny, wearing nothing except his new boxers…and grinning radiantly at him.
"Bloody hell," he breathed, pulling the photo closer to him. But he couldn't tear his eyes away from it as the image darkened again…glowing Pygmy Puffs…and then Ginny in all her glory.
"Whatcha got there, Harry?" Seamus asked leaning over to see the photo Harry was glued to.
"Ahh, erm…" Harry stood abruptly, pressing the photograph to his chest and then quickly slipping it underneath his jumper before any of the Weasleys could see it. "It's …it's nothing." His heart rate increased just thinking about what was pressed to his chest.
'Damn that woman,' he growled internally. Except, he couldn't help the thrill that shot through him knowing that she'd done something so…scandalous just for him. In fact, he had to admit that it did more than a little to turn him on.
"Oi! I think these things glow in the dark," George called out as he flicked his wand and dimmed the lights.
"No!" Harry called out too late.
Raucous laughter filled the room when the glowing fuzzy menaces were seen dancing around the shorts. Harry quickly tucked the photograph into the waistband of his trousers and pulled his wand, summoning the shorts and stuffing them into his back pockets.
"Aww, come on," Charlie protested even as someone lit the room again.
"What's with the Pygmy Puffs?" Neville asked. "I don't get it."
"Yeah," Dean agreed. "They've been around here all night."
"It's…it's a private joke," Harry tried lamely. He dared a glance over at Ron, all thoughts of reassuring his best mate gone as he prayed Ron could sense Harry's thoughts of castration should his best friend embarrass him even further would deter Ron.
His hopes were dashed when Ron grinned evily and tossed back a shot of golden Firewhiskey. Harry sighed and quickly poured himself a shot.
"Well, it seems that Ginny calls Harry her little Pygmy Puff," Ron laughed.
Merlin, Harry groaned, the wanker was truly enjoying this.
"That's…that's not on, mate," Seamus gaped.
"Yeah," Oliver agreed. "I can see a hippogriff or a gryphon or something more…"
"Manly," Charlie agreed with a somewhat disgusted look.
Harry only grimaced as he tossed back the drink and poured another generous shot.
"I thought Ginny said it was Ron that had a thing for Pygmy Puffs," Neville asked.
Harry sighed, knowing that he was going to have to shoot this down or he'd never live to see the end of it.
"Harry, surely you can get her to find something more…macho," Dean suggested.
"Yeah, Harry, wasn't it her who said you had a tattoo of a Hungarian Horntail?" Ron teased. Harry could tell he was enjoying every second of his friend's humiliation. "Maybe she got a look at you finally and decided that a dragon was over-rating it a bit much."
Harry ran a hand through his hair as the others guffawed mightily. There was nothing for it, he decided. Damn his pride, he was going to take care of this once and for all.
"Ron," he began, letting a smug grin spread across his features, "if you truly knew what that Pygmy Puff meant, and the . . . circumstances in which that nickname came about, you'd never say anything about it to me again."
Ron's laughter faded and he looked confused for a moment before he glanced up at Harry's face.
"Must I elaborate?' Harry asked with a waggle of his eyebrows.
Ron's Adam's apple bobbed a few times and he twitched, possibly going over the possibilities in his mind. All the color drained out of his face, and he looked as if he were going to be sick. Harry hoped he wouldn't have to pull out the big ammunition. It seemed, however, that Ron's mind had finally settled on a picture as he grimaced and shivered all over.
"Don't forget that it's your sister that I'm marrying," Harry said as he passed his drink over to Ron, watching as he tossed it back in one movement.
"Never be mentioned again, mate," Ron assured him in a hoarse voice and walked away.
Once Harry had thanked his mates for coming and made sure they'd all taken their portkeys home before he wandered over toward the makeshift bar. A blissful haze filled his mind and he felt nothing but an overall fondness for everyone who'd come that night. It may have been the several shots of firewhiskey he'd consumed, but he preferred to think it had just been a good night.
"Everyone make it out alright?" Ron asked as he played with the empty shot glass from his last round of Firewhiskey. Harry nodded, scrunching his eyes as he tried to remember how much Ron had actually had to drink tonight. Then again, he'd always been able to drink Harry under the table.
"George and Hagrid were the last ones. I think I can still hear them actually," he mused, listening closely for the faint sound of drunken singing coming from further and further away. "Think George'll stay there," he shrugged.
"Hopefully," Ron said quietly and Harry watched as he slid his fingers up and down the glass in front of him, pushing water droplets down to form a pool at the base of the now empty drink.
"Listen, Ron, I wanted to say…well, thanks. For tonight and everything else." Harry shifted awkwardly, and then scratched at the item that was rubbing against his belly. His hand froze when he remembered exactly what it was.
"It wasn't a problem, mate," Ron said with a slow smile. "I was happy to do it for you."
Harry sat down next to Ron and leaned heavily on the table. "Ron, I know it's not any of my business, but…are you and Hermione going to be alright?"
Ron rubbed his eyes harshly and shrugged. "I don't know, Harry. I just don't know. I thought…everything was going so good, you know. That first week…and then…" He shrugged as he trailed off.
Harry sighed and ruffled his hair. "I know that Ginny and I moving up the date for the wedding hasn't helped. And Hermione's kind of taken over, hasn't she?" He chuckled but Ron didn't seem to find it funny at all. "Ron, honestly, I can talk to her if you want. I mean, it's been great that she's been helping Ginny and all. But neither of us wants to cause problems between you and Hermione. It's just…it's just a wedding, Ron. It's not worth…whatever is going on with you two."
Ron finally turned and faced him and Harry knew that he'd at least said something right. "I know. And I appreciate it, mate. I think…well, we'll just have to work it out, you know. But it's more than just a wedding at this point; at least it is for the maid of honor. I think a lot of it is just Hermione. She wants to make up for being gone for so long, you know. She and Ginny were always close and I think she thinks if she throws herself into your wedding she can…"
"Yeah," Harry said and nodded slowly. "I guess you might be right."
"And I…well, I've been a git." Ron snorted out a humorless laugh. "I've been demanding and…just awful. But she's been just as bad." Harry couldn't help the laugh that escaped. "She's cut me off, Harry."
"Cut you…? Oh, oh!" Harry's face heated again and he quickly glanced around, looking for anyone to help him out and completely forgetting that everyone had already gone. He couldn't even hear George and Hagrid's bawdy song any longer.
"Yep," Ron confirmed as he drained the rest of the drink and slid the glass around. "And I'm completely buggered, Harry. I can't… I think about her all the time, you know."
Harry shifted around uncomfortably, thinking of any way he could change the subject. "Ron?"
"She's so caught up in the bloody ceremony and I hardly get to see her anymore. It's like picking out the color of tulle is more important than seeing me and it's driving me mad. I thought we'd get to know one another again now that she's home and I feel like I saw her more when we were writing one another. . ."
Waves of relief hit Harry as he realized when Ron said 'cut off' he wasn't referring to sex (a concept he certainly didn't want to connect with Hermione at all!) but rather it was the emotional closeness that his best friend so clearly missed. The relief was sharply mingled with a tinge of fear—Harry didn't really know how to talk about that kind of thing. It was hard enough working on that part of his and Ginny's relationship.
Heaving a sigh, Harry ran a finger around the edge of his glass before deciding to take a stab at the whole advice thing. "I'm sure that will come back to the two of you after the wedding is over. Hermione's thrown herself into this full throttle because she probably sees it as a chance to make up being gone for a year to Ginny, like you said. Knowing Hermione, she's decided that she's got forever to spend with you and she probably figured that you'd feel the same and understand about it. You two love each other to distraction, you have for ages. Just let her do this for Ginny and be patient, it's not as if Hermione is going any where. Now can we get off the subject of the girls? Any more of this mushy talk on my Stag Night and I'm bound to be sick. Seriously, Ron," Harry complained miserably, "my lunch…all over this counter, mate."
"But I can't…" Ron seemed to shake it off and Harry sighed in relief. "I've got to fix this, Harry."
"Yeah."
"Can I stay at your place tonight?" Ron asked, shooting an embarrassed glance at Harry. The dark haired wizard hesitated in answering for a moment, fairly sure that Ginny might be waiting for him.
"Sure," he answered. There would be no way he could ever turn Ron down. They'd just have to be judicious with the silencing spells.
Ron wearily made his way up the creaking stairs of Grimmauld Place to his old room. He was grateful that the night had gone over so well—including the only slightly awkward conversation with Harry at the end. The two of them generally steered clear of discussing 'those' feelings, but it was nice to know that Harry had faith in him. He knew that things with Hermione were going to take work, but now Ron had hope that they would make it through.
As he opened the door to his room and looked around, his heart froze in his chest and a light sweat broke out on his forehead. Her tear-stained face relaxed in sleep as she clutched one of his old Cannon's shirts to her chest made him long to draw near her and offer what comfort he could. Ron took a near silent step toward Hermione, but a treacherous floorboard squeaked and her brown eyes snapped open.
Seeing the sadness etched in the chocolate depths of her eyes, Ron felt a piece of his heart break. "Oh, Mione . . ."
A/N: Many, many, MANY thanks go to the fabulous hgfan1111, who was not only my beta for this piece but also my AMAZING co-author. Yes, we know it's long, but once we started writing it we couldn't really stop.
And so consider this a present to all of you wonderful readers and reviewers, who now you know the mystery of the Pygmy Puffs. I hope you loved it!
(Pssst, reviews are the best present of all)
Glomps, Hugs, and Pygmy Puffs,
UD
