Grimmauld Place Horseplay

Summary:

Canon - One Shot - Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix – 5th book. The Weasleys and Hermione are at 12 Grimmauld Place for the summer. Harry is still at his aunt and uncle's. The group is tired after another day of cleaning. They spend their evening lounging in an upper room, and take turns making fun of Ron.

Ginny stood in the window and watched the street below. People walked happily beside the city gardens, smiling in their bright clothes, but Ginny was stuck indoors and frowning. The relentless heat was wilting the gardens and grass outside, but this was all quite hidden from 12 Grimmauld Place. Once the sunlight hit the dusty windows, it almost seemed to dissolve into a stale grey streak. It was everything the afternoon light could do to reach the far walls, let alone warm the room.

On the third floor, Hermione had helped her clear away the dirty furniture in the large bedroom facing the street. They created a soft space by spreading several quilts and cushions out on the floor to make themselves comfortable and read the Prophet. They each settled with a cushion below the twinkle of dust in the gloomy beams of light. From outside they could hear the dull swish of cars driving by and muddled shouts from people in the park.

Moments later, Ron stomped into the room holding a bloody cloth to his temple, shaking his head and cursing, "it's been ten minutes already, why am I still bleeding?"

Hermione stood up and directed Ron closer to the window for light. "Lean down so I can see." She looked closer at the small cut. "You know, if you need help catching doxies, you can ask us for help, right?"

"Yeah, yeah… it's not as if I went looking for them, it just burst out of a vase and went straight for my face!"

Ginny stood and walked to the door, "I'll go get the antidote," and turned to pad down the stairs as quietly as she could.

Hermione scrounged around her bag to find a plaster and handed it to Ron. "Best get your mum to mend that cut when they're done the meeting."

Ron shrugged and stuck the plaster to his head, "I don't think the antidote will do much at this point either, I've been bit so many times I'm probably immune by now."

Ginny returned with a small dropper bottle and handed it to Ron. He took a deep breath and squeezed a few drops on the back of his tongue, wincing at the taste.

"Ylech! I'll take a dung bomb over this hogwash any day," smacking his lips as he read the faded label on the bottle and twisted the dropper top back in.

Ginny reached in her pocket and held out something small to Ron. He wrinkled his nose and looked at the source of the smell in Ginny's hand.

"Kidding! You think I'd actually put one of those in my mouth? You've got a foul sense of humor, taking advantage of my wounded state!" said Ron with a hand to his chest.

"Oh come on now, give us a floor show Ron, we're bored," chided Ginny, before turning to go downstairs again, snatching the antidote from Ron's hand and taking it with her. "Oh, and Mum's got food on for us, the meeting's going to be a while."

Ron and Hermione settled on the blankets and flipped through the latest Prophet. Despite being cleaned several times, the cushions still had a dank, fusty odour to them that just wouldn't wash out in the damp air. They could hear Ginny stumble on the steps, whispering a curse when Mrs. Black's portrait gave a grumble and asked for Kreacher.

Their conversation ran in circles like most other days, brooding on the same scraps of information scrounged from the papers. Why was Voldemort staying so hidden? And why couldn't they send any real letters to Harry? It's not as if they had any real secrets to share anyway.

Ginny returned and flopped down beside the others with the platter of food to stave them off until dinner. Ron grabbed a handful of mini sausage rolls and fruitcake slices before Ginny even set it down. Hermione held back Crookshanks, who was just as eager for the food.

The cat made another attempt at the food before she tapped him on the nose, scolding him. After he finally settled himself, Hermione broke open a steaming sausage roll, eating the pastry portion, and feeding the sausage to the glaring cat.

CRACK! CRACK!

Crookshanks bolted under a couch as Fred and George apparated into the room.

"Lovely, lovely! Hard earned rations for another hard day's labour." said Fred as he circled the ring to find a spot.

"Watch your fingers there Ron," said George, pointing scornfully, "I've seen snapping turtles eat with more poise and restraint."

The twin settled down and joined the group on the floor, each filling a napkin with food.

"So," asked Ginny, shifting from one elbow to the next, "what have you heard?"

"More sweet nothings and a dash of speculation." responded Fred. "We couldn't hear a word of the meeting today. They must be off playing tiddlywinks in the corner."

"Anyffing aboo 'arry?" mumbled Ron between bites, with flecks of pastry crumb flying out.

"Nuffink 'oo foo!" guffawed Fred, imitating Ron's puffed out cheeks, "didn't I just say we couldn't hear anything today? All we have to work with is the drivel they print in that rag." pointing to the Prophet in the center of the ring.

George ate his food and frowned at the dying light of the window. "Shame we can't just pop out for a stroll in London. We're all going to start growing barnacles if we hold out in this damp old dump any longer."

"You mean you couldn't apparate out if you wanted to?" asked Hermione.

"We tried," said the twins together.

"It was like someone bonked me over the head with a frying pan and knocked me to the ground. No one goes in, no one goes out." nodded Fred. "You'd have get outside the protections and stand on the street to leave this place."

"But then Mum would probably bonk us on the head with a frying pan and knock us to the ground," added George, "so it looks like we're stuck with your pallid faces all summer."

Ginny folded her napkin and set it on the platter. "I wish we still had the old car, then we could all get out of the city for some fresh air."

"Ah," beamed Fred, "I see you paid attention in your muggle studies class. The venerable 'joyride' as the old tradition goes. Top up the tank with petrol and tour the town with the force of 88 horses under the bonnet."

"We used to enjoy a good joyride, until 'somebody' had to spoil it." said George, leaning over to stare at Ron accusingly, who stuck his tongue back at him.

"You never actually drove on the roads did you?" gasped Hermione. "The police would have known you were too young in an instant!"

The twins smiled at each other, "well, by the time the rozzers turned around, we had made it round the corner and hit the invisibility button. Bit of a dodgy ride home, especially when we had to leap-frog over that lorry at the last second. He'd be wondering why there's tire prints on his roof."

Ginny was laughing at this new revelation in the twin's legacy of insolence. Crookshanks jumped down to make another attempt at a sausage roll, while Hermione shook her head in astonishment, shooing the cat away. Ron looked indignant.

"When was this? You never asked me to join you." said Ron.

"Of course not, there wouldn't be much joy in the joyride if you were there now would there?" responded George. "And besides, you don't know how to feed the horses."

"What horses?" asked Ron

Ginny looked as puzzled as Ron until she caught a subtle wink from George. Hermione sat back with an amused look at Ron and the twins.

"The 88 horses under the bonnet!" asserted Fred, "you didn't think it was powered by magic did you? The automobile is a natural evolution of the horse and cart after all."

Ron frowned in concentration. "No, there can't be that many horses in there… can muggles shrink them…?"

"Dad never showed you how to feed them Ron?" asked Ginny with a smirk. "It's the most important thing to operate a car, that's why you crashed into the whomping willow, the horses get grumpy when they're not fed."

Ron panned the room with a bemused smile. "You're just joshing me now. There's not actual horses in the car is there Hermione?"

Hemione pursed her lips to suppress her laughter. "Well, whenever my dad bought a new car, his first question was always: How many horses does it have?" but she couldn't hold back any longer and spluttered out with laughter.

"No, I knew it," said Ron facing the twins, relieved as he swept crumbs off his jumper and added his napkin to the platter, "you didn't fool me, not like that time I almost choked on a chocolate frog because you told me if I at it whole, I'd be able to jump over the garden shed."

The group laughed even harder at this. Ginny grabbed the last piece of fruit cake and held it in her teeth as she stood to set the platter on a table by the door. She crossed the room, chewing on the cake, and peered through window to see the sun setting over the buildings.

The flaking paint crumbled under her knuckles as she leaned on the window sill. She moved back and brushed them off with her already stained jumper. A muffled beeping could be heard from a delivery van turning around across the park.

Below, the view was warped and muddled through the poured glass panes. She wasn't worried about people seeing in, anyone looking up at the windows would only see units 11 and 13 from the street. She had even tried waving and sticking her tongue out at people before, but no one ever spared a glance at the miserable rooms within.

The dusty horizon of amber sunlight was moving up the walls, and had finally reached the ceiling, leaving them in glum darkness.

Hermione began crumpling pieces of newspaper and used empty glasses to contain small blue flames and set them around the room for light. She picked up the cat and joined Ginny at the window to see the pinkish dusk light blend with the auburn street lights.

Crookshanks became restless in her arms as he eyed some pigeons on the street lamp outside. He wriggled free and crunched along the flaking window sill, twitching his tail for balance, never dropping his gaze from the birds.

Ron and the twins were now indulging in an argument over some quidditch stats in the paper. They couldn't agree whether the penalty shot was valid given the wind in Norway this time of year.

Ginny turned from the window and faced the room with a deep breath. "You know, I've had a sad thought today." Hermione was busy trying to distract Crookshanks' concentration of the pigeons by swatting his swishing tail. She stopped and turned to face Ginny.

"These are the good times, aren't they?" Ginny continued, "it feels like prison now, but I know we're going to look back at this and think it was the good times."

"I hope you're wrong," agreed Hermione with a grim smile, "But I think we're going to wish we're all back here real soon. I just wish we knew what was going on so we could actually help."

The boys were now standing in the heat of the argument. Ron was red-faced and grinning in victory, pointing his finger at the smirking twins, who remained defiant in their stance. George gave Ron a sharp push backwards, there was a loud CRACK!, and Fred was suddenly kneeling behind Ron, causing him to trip backwards, landing in a crumpled heap on the mess of cushions, cursing all the way down. Even the portrait of an armored horse stomped and snorted in amusement.

End

Luka Stilheere