Disclaimer: What?! Hell – I don't even own me! Apparently my parents do… --_-- Making me take Higher Maths *grumble* *grumble*…

A/N: Aidan = wonderful. Mistakes = mine. Recap = italics. People who do stuff with this story (uh…) = very cool.

Yeah… could you tell I couldn't be bothered? :P

Oh! – by the way – if you can, can you leave signed reviews? 'cause I like to reply. The ones I have gotten, though, have been very complimentary, so thanks. :)

Lights, camera, action!

Muggles, Fan Mail and Metamorphmagus Werewolves
Chapter 5: Provocative Pieces Of External Flair (And Their Synthesizing Properties)

A shout of laughter came from Seamus, who had finally been able to open his box.

'Look at this! Merlin, Harry…'

Harry turned and looked at Seamus. In his hands he held a small red bit of cloth. Harry frowned in confusion. Seamus smirked. Decanting the item into one hand, he slowly picked it up with his fingertips and stretched out the corners, allowing Harry - and everyone else - to see it more clearly.

Harry paled as everyone around him burst into laughter.

'And!' Seamus shouted over the noise, '...It's been worn!'

At this everyone succumbed to new peals of laughter. Seamus scrunched up the lace thong and threw it at Harry. Instinctively, he caught it only to drop it into his lap, grimacing. This caused everyone to laugh harder - Ron looking as though he would need some medical assistance in the near future - and reach for more of the of the, as yet unopened, parcels.

Harry stared down at the offending garment in his lap, scrutinising it from a distance.

'How do you know it's been worn?' Harry asked Seamus warily, lifting it up with his thumb and index finger.

Seamus raised his eyebrows, amused, 'Look inside,'

Harry peered cautiously into the folds of the fabric and quickly dropped the thong on the table, swearing loudly.

Unfortunately, this set the still giddy Ron off again, causing him to almost fall of his seat in mirth.

'Lets see,' said an eager Dean from across the table.

Picking up the corner of gingerly, Harry flung it at him.

'Nice!' he laughed, when he'd satisfied his curiosity.

'You don't think... these are all...' he muttered to Hermione, who looked up from reading a rather long letter.

'No,' she said, 'This one's from a...' she glanced at the signature at the bottom, 'Margret Nelson.'

Harry looked at her questioningly.

'She's 83,' she added.

Harry continued to eye her questioningly.

'Oh, for Merlin's sake, Harry!' she elbowed him and smiled, 'All this woman's said is that she's thankful for all you've done...' she sent a sly look at Harry from the corner of her eyes, 'And that if she was 60 years younger-'

'WHAT!?' Harry yelped, snatching the letter form Hermione's grasp as she giggled.

Harry read through the letter, turning slightly green, 'Old ladies shouldn't speak like that...' he said weakly.

'Most of them are just saying thanks - Hey! This one mentions us!' Ron gestured at himself and Hermione.

"What does it say?' she asked eagerly.

'Er... "thank you", blah, blah, blah... oh! Here it is - "also if you could extend my thanks to Miss Hermione Granger and Mr. Ronald Weasley, I would be grateful, as I believe they helped in the defeat He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named...'Ron looked up, an excited grin spread widely across his face, 'Isn't that brilliant?!'

'Wow! Look at this!' Dean called down the table. Seamus leaned over his shoulder to look at the square of parchment Dean was holding. His eyes widened and he let out a low whistle. Curiosity getting the better of him, Ron snatched it from their grasp. His jaw dropped.

'Dear Merlin...'

'What? What is it?' asked Harry, slight urgency lacing his tone.

'It... I...' Ron shook his head and wordlessly passed the parchment to Harry.

It was a photograph. A rather inappropriate photograph, to be exact. Hermione looked over his shoulder and sniffed.

'She must be about thirty! What does she think she's doing sending a half-naked picture of herself to someone who's young enough to be her son?! Honestly!' she huffed, folding her arms. She glanced at Harry, who was still looking intently the photo, 'What are you doing?!'

'Hm?' He looked up. 'What? Oh, I…' his eyes slid back to the photo and glazed over, 'I just… didn't realize people could bend that way…' His head tilted to the side, viewing the picture from a different angle.

'Neither did I…' Ron's distant look disappeared when Hermione made a disgusted sound at the back of her throat and tore the picture from Harry's grasp, slipping it face down under a bowl of potatoes.

The boys seemed disheartened and mumbled something about jealousy that Hermione didn't quite hear, before returning to the mountain of parcels and scrolls before them. Dudley, still looking confused and slightly left out, joined in.

Harry reached for an envelope that was jutting out between two parcels. It was a thin muggle envelope, addressed in childish handwriting. Harry breathed a sigh of relief: it was safe. Or, at least, he could be almost positive that the contents weren't pornographic.

He ripped it open. Or tried at least. Unfortunately, it seemed to be one of those envelopes that had to be ripped open one centimeter at a time; one of those envelopes that had been licked so earnestly that the paper seemed permanently bonded together. Finally, methodically wrenching it open, he pulled out the contents. Inside there was a single sheet of paper; Harry unfolded it carefully.

It was a drawing. A picture of the artist next to a very tall stick-man with comically huge glasses and a green zig-zag down the centre of his face. It was him. And printed underneath the drawing, in far too neat a hand to be the child's own, were the words: My Hero. He smiled and looked carefully at the others around him, making sure they were all too engrossed in their own findings, before re-folding the picture and slipping it into the front pocket of his jeans.

…

Further down the table, Ginny reached for the potatoes. Lifting up the large bowl, she slipped the photo from under it. She had seen the uproar it and the underwear had caused and, although she had no interest in the thong, she was interested to see how this picture had held Harry's attention.

She turned it over and grimaced. Hermione had not been exaggerating when she said this woman was old enough to be Harry's mother. But her heart lightened as she saw the woman in question had long red hair…

To Be Continued…

A/N: Sorry guys, I know it's short – but it's a relatively fast update… does that make up for it? I've also been posting a few more new stories so… I think I've been doing pretty well, no? Anyway, reviews are nice so… yeah. Constructive crit is goood… :)