Hello! So I'm having some issues with computer typing. Which means it's probably going to take me longer to get things up and online, but it should be fine in a couple weeks when I have better access again. For now, a short piece.

House: Ravenclaw, Category: Short, Prompt: Grimmauld Place, WC: 1314

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Grimy. Crumbling. Uncomfortable.

Those were the words one might normally use to describe Number 12 Grimmauld Place. Because it was indeed grimy, and certainly crumbling, and most definitely uncomfortable. Centuries-old paint peeled away from dried-out skirting boards and coving, acquaintances with the damp and the mould. Its green tinge blended with the greying house colours of the Black Family. Geriatric wallpaper folded in on itself, showing the cracks and backs instead of the Paisley patterns. On a normal occasion, the house lived off a staple diet of grey and green, entirely alone and empty. On a normal occasion, the dank rooms would echo their own silence to the grumbling of Mrs Black. On a normal occasion, there would not be a party going on.

"Three cheers for the happy couple!" George hollered, raising his bottle of butterbeer to the dusty ceiling, now peppered with multicoloured sequins - earlier on in the day, the Weasley family had taken the liberty of decorating the whole miserable place. Streamers hung jauntily from every corner of the room, glittering and reflecting fragments of every colour. Balloons were grouped along the sides of tables, cupboards, and windows. Bunting flew from one end of the kitchen to the other, flapping around in the nonexistent wind.

Unafraid in the ex-hideout, the rest of the group cheered noisily back, sloshing butterbeer down heir fronts in jovial spirits. Harry and Ginny smiled almost weakly to each over, knowing that the night was going to be a long, and exhausting one. But they knew that they would also have fun. As Fred draped a ridiculous garland around each of their necks, the two clinked classes and drank along with the rest of their slightly crazy family.

"Music!" Mrs Weasley squealed, rushing to the wireless in the corner, causing the twins to groan in exaggerated agony.

"Wait!" Harry called out, placing a gentle arm around his fiancées shoulders, much to her chagrin. "I just want to say thanks to everyone for this. And thank you to my fantastic fiancée. Without whom, Merlin knows where I would be." Ginny blushed a furious red, hitting Harry on the shoulder. But he knew it was okay because she couldn't quite stop smiling. Especially not when Hermione rushed over and begged to talk about everything ever. Sheesh. Girls.

One of the things he never really thought about was getting married. Harry Potter was not a romantic, nor was he particularly extroverted. But now that he was almost halfway there, it felt intense. It was going to be a big event, by the sounds of whatever the heck Mrs Weasley was talking about. Which, to Harry, sounded like one big nightmare waiting to happen. He wouldn't mind the basic, run of the mill wedding in a nice field somewhere. He was marrying Ginny, it didn't matter who attended other than him, Ginny, and a Minster of some sort. But with the Weasley's comes the huge family, and he crazy parties. He liked that too.

"Congratulations mate," Ron shouted, a little drunk already by the sound of it. He squeezed in between Harry and the wall, completely forgoing any sense of a personal bubble, which made Harry laugh a little harder. Ron clapped his friend on the back, grinning toothily and wobbling very slightly to the left. Harry tried to wrap an arm around him to hold him steady, but Ron was having none of it. It didn't matter. That congratulations was all the blessing Harry really wanted from anyone; for his best friend to be okay with it. The two men stood - well, leaned - side by side, drinks in hand, joking like bothers.

The music blared into the kitchen, ricocheting around the room the dulcet tones of Gertrude Grimoire accompanying the Weird Sisters. Not Harry's special favourite, but Ginny was soon dancing from one chair to the next, followed by the enthused twins, and Fleur - perhaps doing the strangest dance of them all. She waved her arms frivolously, and jiggled her knees to a beat that certainly did not match that of the song. By the end of 'Bottom's Up', the whole of the room were slamming their hands on the table in laughter. Harry grabbed hold of Ginny's hand as she clambered down to him, stumbling inelegantly towards the wall. He squeezed her tight against him, revelling in the warmth of the alcohol, and the vague comfort from their near-family supporting the both of them.

It seemed as though hours blended into minutes. Minutes into seconds. Before long, Harry's head was full of colour and rattling noise, as the exuberant crowd of people seemed to explode with even more noise with every passing minute. He was lightheaded, spinning ever so slightly like one of those ridiculous muggle toys Dudley used to love. Faces swam before his eyes, each as red and joyful as the last, of family and friends, and all of the people he really loved in the world. From a great distance, someone tapped him on the shoulder. A mass of ginger people, all taller than himself, hovering in the white zone of his clouded vision. The tallest of them all asked,

"You alright, Harry?"

"Fantastic thanks!" He replied instantly, still trying to work out who it was. Who it must be. Well, it must be Bill. Taller than all of the Weasley's put together, it sometimes felt. Broader, larger, older than Harry, and what almost seemed like most people in the world. "How are you?"

"Good thanks. We need to have a chat in the hallway." Bill gestured to behind Harry where the kitchen door was very slightly ajar. On his way out, Harry was desperately wracking his brain. Was there something important he was supposed to have done? Or was there something he had to talk to them about? No matter. He better sober up and quickly. He had forgotten that he needed to be on the ball. He had forgotten that he couldn't relax, even on the day of his engagement party. He swore internally.

"It's just protocol, mate," Ron attempted to reassure him. "She's our sister." So it has something to do with Ginny? Harry swallowed thickly, hoping that he wasn't about to be beaten up. That would put a downer on the party, for sure. "What's first?"

"Don't mess her around," Bill said, having raised his hand in claim. He glanced to the twins.

"If you hurt her..." Fred began.

"We'll have to kill you," George finished in an almost bored tone. The casual remark alone almost made Harry laugh. But he could only look to Ron now, waiting for the finale of what was clearly the brotherly threatenings.

"What was it, George? We're wizards and will separate your body if you hurt her feelings?" George nodded, and Ron turned to Harry. "Yeah, that." Harry merely grinned at them all, as they folded their arms in a vain attempt to look even just a little bit more serious about the whole thing. But then Bill clapped Harry on the shoulder, laughing out loud. For a moment, Harry was absolutely terrified. Separate his body? Death? Serious threats, those.

"We know you're a good bloke," Bill said.

"Congratulations mate," Ron repeated from earlier. Before closing the curtains of the voracious Mrs black, the brothers drank to Quidditch and roared a cheer of celebration in a way of many congratulations.

"You know," Ginny was saying much later, draped in the duvet of an old bedroom. "I'm glad I said yes."

"Because you love me?" Harry asked.

"Well. That too," she laughed easily, throwing her arms out wide in a stretch. Harry smiled and tumbled into the bed to her, tired all at once. She kissed him as they both fell into sleep.

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