(no subject)
Title: I love you, Romilda!
Author:
thesteppyone
Requestor:
oncelikeshari
Claim: Harry didn't stop Ron from going after Romilda Vane...what happened on Ron's alternate 17th birthday?
Rating: PG-13, just to be safe!
Summary: Ron’s seventeenth birthday had certainly been a memorable one, but, in his opinion, for all the wrong reasons.
Warnings: None
Notes: So, not so much rolling on the floor in a fit of giggle’s funny, but I think I managed happy and amusing. Not angsty anyway, which was the whole point and, because I want as many people to like this as possible am a nice person, I left the end open to your preference of fic, i.e. Het or Slash. Read it how you want to! Thanks to
leviathan0999for the beta-ing. Oh! Anyone who has read some of my other fic, may recognise something I've used before, however, I'm sure people will understand why I used it again. It went down well last time, and at one point I needed help with any funny possible! Ta!
---
In hindsight it hadn’t been that bad.
Okay, with hindsight and a strong calming draught he was coming round to the idea that it could have been worse.
A lot worse.
But the calming draught was starting to wear off and the side of his brain that caused the need for the calming draught in the first place was starting to panic again.
Harry had been no help, in fact Ron had decided the whole affair was entirely Harry’s fault. Yes, he liked that idea, the whole debacle, which in all fairness had only lasted twenty minutes (but was a hell of a twenty minutes) was the entire fault of Harry James Potter.
It wouldn’t have been so bad if the bespectacled one had at least attempted to look sorry whilst he apologised. Well, technically it was an apology, but it was about as much of an apology as Ginny, Fred and George’s apology to their mother had been when they turned their Christmas dinner into a food fight with their elder brother.
Yep. If Harry James Potter weren’t so vital to the future of the not-hell-bent-on-pure-evil part of the Wizarding world then he would be a dead man.
Well, no, he wouldn’t, but he wouldn’t be wearing that stupid grin on his face that hadn’t moved since half past eight that morning.
Because that’s when the absurd affair started, the minute Ronald Bilius Weasley had inadvertently ingested a love potion via a box of chocolate cauldrons.
It would have been fine if Harry had just taken him to the potion master and got an antidote for his oh-so-talented brothers’ love potion. Actually that was an idea; he could blame Harry and Fred and George. Yeah, that was a good idea. It was becoming less of his fault as time went on. But that was beside the point, it definitely would have been a better birthday if he had been taken to Slughorn’s office and given an antidote. Then his seventeenth birthday, the day on which he legally became an adult, would have been much more fun.
Instead he had left his dormitory, (once Harry had let him down from his levicorpus spell - he supposed he deserved that) and given the whole of Gryffindor tower something to laugh about for, well, a good week at the very least.
The first thing he had done, in his love sick state was alert all the girls in Gryffindor Tower that he was trying to get into their dormitory. Apparently his determination to see the fourth year Romilda Vane - that was another name he could add to the blame list - had stopped him remembering that he wasn’t allowed into the girl’s dormitory. For the second time in his Hogwart’s career he had gone arse over tit down the stone slide back into to the common room. He had actually managed to get quite far up the stairs due to the fact that he had taken them four at a time, and was agonisingly close to the first floor when any and all grip went from underneath his feet and he backward rolled all the way down the slide.
Unfortunately for Ron, someone else had just stepped onto the top step just as it turned into a death slide. He didn’t notice her slide in a not very elegant way down the smooth stone, (in all fairness she managed it better than he did - but that wasn’t saying much) but he noticed when she landed heavily on top of him, looking very angry and rather embarrassed.
‘Ronald Weasley what in the name of Merlin do you think you are doing?’ she hissed venomously at him, from her position directly on top of him.
He may not have been focused on mundane observations at that precise moment in time but he had known to whom that hissed belonged since he was eleven years old.
‘I’m trying to see Romilda Vane,’ he replied, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
‘Romilda Va-’ she started to ask, and stopped struggling to get off Ron to stare at him in the face. In hindsight he could see she was already smirking before she looked up at Harry for confirmation of her thoughts.
‘Could you get off me, please?’ Ron asked her.
To which she answered him with a glare and scrambled to her feet. Harry jogged over and pulled her away from Ron, a smirk plastered across his face.
Had he been paying attention, Ron would have noticed Harry’s hushed and hurried words to Hermione, and he would also have noticed her try her hardest to conceal her body convulsing laughter, but fail. She had to sit down at one point due to lack of oxygen, but after a minute, composed herself and settled herself in for the show.
Yes, she had enjoyed those twenty minutes immensely.
Actually, he could add her name to the blame list as well. She could have stopped this from happening, but she didn’t. Not at all. The thought hadn’t even crossed her mind.
‘Have you stopped sulking yet?’ Harry asked Ron, the grin, which seemed to be charmed to his face, widening as he spoke.
‘Nope, and I’m still not talking to you.’
‘Well, I’d believe you, but your previous…’ he thought for a second, ‘eight words betray that, so, if you would be so kind as to answer my question…’
Ron scowled at him. ‘You know, I’m personally blaming you along with Fred, George, Romilda Vane and Giggle-fit over there for all of this!’
Hermione came and sat on the arm of the chair he was sitting in.
‘Did you just call me ‘Giggle-fit’?’
‘Yes I did!’
‘How are we to blame for your highly entertaining escapades?’ Harry asked, ignoring Hermione’s outraged look.
‘You could have stopped me at any time!’
‘Yes but where would the fun be in that?’ Hermione said with a smile. ‘Personally, I found you proposing to a fifteen year old girl highly amusing! With everything that’s been going on I think we all needed a laugh!’
‘Oh, so that’s all I am to you, is it? An entertainment service?’
‘Oh of course not, Ronald!’ she snapped. ‘You’re an educational service too! I think all the Gryffindor boys learned how not to propose to the one they love tonight, didn’t they, Harry!’
Harry burst out laughing. Ron glared at the both of them.
‘She has a point Ron, what on earth possessed you to A, propose to her, and B, decide to have the house elves carry her on a specially made throne to you so you could do it?’
Hermione tried her hardest to suppress the giggles that were building up inside her throat again, and, for the minute managed to. She wasn’t sure how long it would be before she fell off the chair laughing, however.
‘Well, I thought she’d like being the centre of attention!’
‘The centre of attention!’ Harry spluttered. ‘Ron, she was unbelievably annoyed about being woken up at half eight on a Saturday morning, went back to bed and then found herself being levitated down the steps by four House Elves and you on one knee at the bottom of the stairs with - and I do believe it was at this point that you lost your current girlfriend - one of the links to the ‘my sweetheart’ chain Lavender bought you for Christmas enlarged to the size of a ring! I think ‘centre of attention’ is the biggest understatement of the century. Everyone was staring at her, and as much as she likes being the centre of attention in some situations, I don’t think this one was of them.’
Ron was about to try and respond in his defence, but Hermione interrupted his almost word, with many of her own.
‘Oh dear lord! That necklace was for you?’ she said through stifled giggles.
‘You’ve seen it?’ Ron half shouted at her.
‘Of course I have! She was waving it around the dormitory for the week before we broke up for Christmas! I didn’t really take notice of what it said, but I was nearly blinded by the damn thing every time she took it out the box to make sure it hadn’t spontaneously vanished of it’s own accord!’
Ron huffed and crossed his arms across his chest.
‘It’s not that flashy!’
‘Ron, hanging a neon sign around your neck would be less flashy than that necklace,’ Harry replied, still grinning.
‘Aren’t we wandering off the point a little?’ Hermione asked, and Ron was grateful for the change of subject. ‘I do believe we were discussing Ron’s failure of a proposal to Romilda Vane at eight forty-three this morning!’
Ron groaned.
‘Can’t we just wander off that point forever?’
‘Oh, no no no! I don’t think that’s possible at all!’ Hermione said seriously but with a smile tugging at her lips. ‘I do believe we are going to remind you of this day for a long time to come.’
‘You know, the nice best friend-esque thing to do would be to let me forget it quietly and just pretend it didn’t happen. That’s what best friends do!’
‘And we will, Ron,’ Harry said seriously, before breaking into a smile, ‘but give us tonight to laugh our arses off first, eh?’
Ron scowled and sunk a little deeper into his chair.
‘Right where were we?’ Hermione asked. She held up her hand and counted off on her fingers. ‘First you nearly killed me and woke up all Gryffindor girls, then you had Romilda carried down the stairs by house elves, then you proposed to her in full view of everyone in Gryffindor, then you decided the best way to her heart was to serenade here with a classic of Celestina Warbeck’s…was that when she dragged him out the room Harry, to stop the staring?’
‘Ah no, Hermione, you forgot the final thing he did. I, personally, didn’t realise he had such artistic skills!’
‘Oh, of course! How could I forget that! In fact I’m surprised it hasn’t been burned onto my retinas!’
‘Actually, I take back my earlier comment, Ron,’ Harry said. ‘I think that is possibly flashier than your necklace.’
Ron threw a cushion at him. Harry’s glasses were knocked askew and he didn’t notice Hermione fall off the arm of the chair after being dislodged by the cushion being moved.
‘He-hem!’ Hermione said angrily form the floor.
Ron turned round to where he was expecting Hermione to be.
‘Oh! Sorry, Hermione!’
He reached over the chair and took her hand, helping her to her feet. She wisely took the seat next to Ron’s and sat down safely.
‘So, Ronald,’ Hermione said, an evil glint in her eye. ‘Has the ‘I love Romilda Vane’ bright orange glitter tattoo been removed from your backside or not?’
Somehow she managed to keep a straight face until she had finished her sentence, but then doubled up in laughter and ended up on the floor once more. At least this time it was voluntary.
Harry had also started giggling in insane amounts and Ron had gone very red, for what must have been the hundredth time that day.
After five minutes of non-stop giggles, Hermione managed to gain a small amount of composure.
‘W-well?’ she asked, still laughing.
‘No,’ Ron mumbled.
The giggle fit started once again, and tears were streaming down both Hermione and Harry’s faces.
‘You can stop now, if you like!’ Ron said, irritably.
In all fairness, they did try and calm down, wiping their tears off their faces and sitting back in their chairs properly, but on occasion they both looked like they were fighting against throwing up, such were the strength of their giggles.
‘Sorry,’ Harry mumbled.
Ron looked pointedly at Hermione.
‘Sorry,’ she said, as sincerely as she could manage.
‘You could at least tell me how I get it off!’
‘How would we know how to get it off?’ Harry exclaimed.
‘Well, considering your middle name is ‘jammy git who can get his arse out of any situation’ and she’ he pointed at Hermione, ‘knows everything, I’m guessing one of you can help me get rid of it.’
Their eyes narrowed at his comments, but they did, this time, keep their mouths shut.
‘I don’t understand why you can’t get it off yourself!’ Hermione squawked.
‘Because I used one of Fred and George’s products, all right! I know it was a stupid thing to do, but I wasn’t exactly thinking clearly at the time, was I?’
‘Wait, your brothers make a product that lets you brand yourself in orange glitter?’ Hermione asked.
‘Not specifically orange glitter, no,’ Ron replied. ‘You can have any colour you want, but I chose Orange!’
‘Cannons?’ Harry asked.
‘Cannons,’ Ron replied.
‘And asking Fred and George for the antidote slash potion slash couterspell is too easy is it?’ Hermione asked.
‘You think I’m going to tell them what I did and where I did it?’ Ron replied, looking at Hermione as if she was stupid.
‘Well, you don’t have to tell them exactly what happened,’ she retorted.
‘No, you don’t,’ Harry said quietly. ‘Not when Ginny’s already written to the telling them exactly what happened, this morning.’
Ron visibly wilted in his seat, after going the darkest shade of red Harry had ever seen.
‘Kill me now. Please, just put me out of my misery and kill me now.’
‘No, I don’t think I will. Not when Pigwidgeon’s standing on the windowsill with what looks like a violently purple envelope.’
Harry got up and opened the window. The small owl flew in and landed on top of Ron’s head. Ron snatched the letter off the fluff ball and it happily flew out of the window and towards the owlery.
‘Oh, crap!’ Ron said, staring at the envelope.
Whilst the parchment was not red in colour, it was obviously a howler and had indeed started to smoke.
Ron sagged to the floor and opened the envelope. For extra protection, (from what, he wasn’t sure) he crawled underneath the table.
The envelope let out a shower of purple stars and hovered three feet above the ground.
‘Our dearest Ronniekins,
It is our absolute delight that you have been using our products to such an interesting effect.
We are, of course, happy to provide you with any other of our products free of charge, if you promise to entertain us as much as you did today. In fact we are thinking of hiring you on a permanent basis as a tester for our products and we suggest you seriously consider a career with us after you leave school. We will accommodate you in any way if we get laughs like you gave us this afternoon.
Now, because we are such brilliant brothers, we have, in this envelope, enclosed - and written on flameproof parchment of course, available from our store for seven sickles for a pack of twenty sheets - the countercharm needed to reverse the effects of the product you fantastically displayed for us today.
Ron hurried out from underneath the table and lunged for the envelope, which was still hovering in mid air. It jumped out of the way of Ron’s grip and sent more purple stars at him, fending him off.
Ah ah! Patience Ronnie, you will have your counterspell soon enough.
Ron scowled at the envelope and retreated back under his table.
We would just like to finish by congratulating you on making your coming of age a memorable day for so many people and thank you for brightening our day considerably. And while we have your attention and the other Gryffindors who are no doubt watching you listen to this-
Harry and Hermione took a quick glance around the common room, and, sure enough, every other Gryffindor who was in the room was transfixed by the hovering purple envelope. They couldn’t help but share a small smile.
‘if you would like to purchase our ‘All Colour, No Smudge, Removable With One Quick and Painless Charm (available at an extra cost) Tattoo Ink’ then come and give Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes at ninety-six Diagon Alley a visit. Anyone giving us any further details of Ronald Weasley’s seventeenth birthday escapades will get a ten percent discount. We look forward to seeing you soon!’
The parchment burst into a shower of purple stars and a small, folded piece of parchment fluttered into Ron’s hands.
‘Er, I think you can come out now, Ron,’ Hermione said to the table.
Slowly Ron came out from under the table and sank back in his chair.
‘I’m gonna kill them,’ he muttered through his fingers.
‘In all fairness, Ron, they could have made things a lot worse. They gave you the counterspell at least. You can get rid of all the evidence now!’
‘It’s gonna obliviate everyone in Gryffindor, is it?’ Ron shot at Harry, still a fantastic shade of red.
Harry smirked. ‘Well, no, I suppose not.’
Ron sighed and looked at the parchment in his hand. He stood up and sighed again.
‘If anyone asks where I am or what I’m doing, DO NOT tell them!’
Harry grinned.
‘Well, if you need any help, Ron, you know where we are!’ Hermione said, a small smirk on her face.
‘Oh ha-bloody-ha!’
He turned and stomped his way up the stairs.
He went through his blame list in his head again. Harry, Fred, George, Romilda and Hermione. Yes, that was fine, that was a good list of people he could blame for his oh-so-embarrassing behaviour.
He flopped down on his bed, glad that Seamus, Neville and Dean were nowhere to be seen, although that could mean that they had just witnessed the entertainment downstairs, he hadn’t looked at anyone except Harry and Hermione. Nevertheless he was alone now and could attend to his…problem.
He unfolded the parchment and read the writing.
Dearest Ronald,
The spell you are after is
Scriptum remotio,
Before you go pointing your wand at your arse and hoping for the best, we thought we’d inform you that it is not recommended you use this spell on your own arse. Should you accidentally point your wand at a part of your arse not covered in your Cannon’s-orange glitter, it may just happen to remove, well, anything else that’s there instead. We therefore suggest you get someone else to conduct the spell for you, as much as this may be embarrassing on some level, if you are clever you could also use it to your advantage. I’m sure a certain best friend of yours would be more than willing to help you remove the declaration of love, so carefully placed on your arse cheeks, and you never know, all that practice with a certain witch may have come in handy. If you cannot learn from your mistakes, Ronald, what on earth is the point of making them in the first place?
You are welcome in advance, dearest brother.
Enjoy!
Fred & George.
‘GITS’ Ron exclaimed before throwing himself back on his covers.
He thought for a moment, then thought about his options. He could attempt the spell himself and hope to Merlin he didn’t miss and banish part of his arse, or…no, maybe not the best idea in the world. Okay, option two was to ask someone else to do it. Really there was only two people he would trust with such a…delicate operation, Harry and Hermione.
While this day had been far from perfect, he could at least salvage something from it. And, his brothers may, on this occasion, be right. He had learned from them about turning something round to his own advantage, so he decided to throw all caution to the wind and ask for help.
He shoved the parchment in his pocket and walked back down the stairs.
Both Harry and Hermione stopped talking and looked at him.
‘Er,’ he said, catching their eye. He focused on one of the chairs and felt himself going red. ‘Would you mind helping me with the spell? I can’t do it on my own.’
He got a grin in reply.
‘Of course!’
As he turned to go back up the stairs he couldn’t help but grin broadly.
Maybe his seventeenth birthday was going to end better than he could have possibly hoped for.
Yes, much better.
Author:
thesteppyone
Requestor:
oncelikeshari
Claim: Harry didn't stop Ron from going after Romilda Vane...what happened on Ron's alternate 17th birthday?
Rating: PG-13, just to be safe!
Summary: Ron’s seventeenth birthday had certainly been a memorable one, but, in his opinion, for all the wrong reasons.
Warnings: None
Notes: So, not so much rolling on the floor in a fit of giggle’s funny, but I think I managed happy and amusing. Not angsty anyway, which was the whole point and, because I want as many people to like this as possible am a nice person, I left the end open to your preference of fic, i.e. Het or Slash. Read it how you want to! Thanks to
leviathan0999for the beta-ing. Oh! Anyone who has read some of my other fic, may recognise something I've used before, however, I'm sure people will understand why I used it again. It went down well last time, and at one point I needed help with any funny possible! Ta!
---
In hindsight it hadn’t been that bad.
Okay, with hindsight and a strong calming draught he was coming round to the idea that it could have been worse.
A lot worse.
But the calming draught was starting to wear off and the side of his brain that caused the need for the calming draught in the first place was starting to panic again.
Harry had been no help, in fact Ron had decided the whole affair was entirely Harry’s fault. Yes, he liked that idea, the whole debacle, which in all fairness had only lasted twenty minutes (but was a hell of a twenty minutes) was the entire fault of Harry James Potter.
It wouldn’t have been so bad if the bespectacled one had at least attempted to look sorry whilst he apologised. Well, technically it was an apology, but it was about as much of an apology as Ginny, Fred and George’s apology to their mother had been when they turned their Christmas dinner into a food fight with their elder brother.
Yep. If Harry James Potter weren’t so vital to the future of the not-hell-bent-on-pure-evil part of the Wizarding world then he would be a dead man.
Well, no, he wouldn’t, but he wouldn’t be wearing that stupid grin on his face that hadn’t moved since half past eight that morning.
Because that’s when the absurd affair started, the minute Ronald Bilius Weasley had inadvertently ingested a love potion via a box of chocolate cauldrons.
It would have been fine if Harry had just taken him to the potion master and got an antidote for his oh-so-talented brothers’ love potion. Actually that was an idea; he could blame Harry and Fred and George. Yeah, that was a good idea. It was becoming less of his fault as time went on. But that was beside the point, it definitely would have been a better birthday if he had been taken to Slughorn’s office and given an antidote. Then his seventeenth birthday, the day on which he legally became an adult, would have been much more fun.
Instead he had left his dormitory, (once Harry had let him down from his levicorpus spell - he supposed he deserved that) and given the whole of Gryffindor tower something to laugh about for, well, a good week at the very least.
The first thing he had done, in his love sick state was alert all the girls in Gryffindor Tower that he was trying to get into their dormitory. Apparently his determination to see the fourth year Romilda Vane - that was another name he could add to the blame list - had stopped him remembering that he wasn’t allowed into the girl’s dormitory. For the second time in his Hogwart’s career he had gone arse over tit down the stone slide back into to the common room. He had actually managed to get quite far up the stairs due to the fact that he had taken them four at a time, and was agonisingly close to the first floor when any and all grip went from underneath his feet and he backward rolled all the way down the slide.
Unfortunately for Ron, someone else had just stepped onto the top step just as it turned into a death slide. He didn’t notice her slide in a not very elegant way down the smooth stone, (in all fairness she managed it better than he did - but that wasn’t saying much) but he noticed when she landed heavily on top of him, looking very angry and rather embarrassed.
‘Ronald Weasley what in the name of Merlin do you think you are doing?’ she hissed venomously at him, from her position directly on top of him.
He may not have been focused on mundane observations at that precise moment in time but he had known to whom that hissed belonged since he was eleven years old.
‘I’m trying to see Romilda Vane,’ he replied, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
‘Romilda Va-’ she started to ask, and stopped struggling to get off Ron to stare at him in the face. In hindsight he could see she was already smirking before she looked up at Harry for confirmation of her thoughts.
‘Could you get off me, please?’ Ron asked her.
To which she answered him with a glare and scrambled to her feet. Harry jogged over and pulled her away from Ron, a smirk plastered across his face.
Had he been paying attention, Ron would have noticed Harry’s hushed and hurried words to Hermione, and he would also have noticed her try her hardest to conceal her body convulsing laughter, but fail. She had to sit down at one point due to lack of oxygen, but after a minute, composed herself and settled herself in for the show.
Yes, she had enjoyed those twenty minutes immensely.
Actually, he could add her name to the blame list as well. She could have stopped this from happening, but she didn’t. Not at all. The thought hadn’t even crossed her mind.
‘Have you stopped sulking yet?’ Harry asked Ron, the grin, which seemed to be charmed to his face, widening as he spoke.
‘Nope, and I’m still not talking to you.’
‘Well, I’d believe you, but your previous…’ he thought for a second, ‘eight words betray that, so, if you would be so kind as to answer my question…’
Ron scowled at him. ‘You know, I’m personally blaming you along with Fred, George, Romilda Vane and Giggle-fit over there for all of this!’
Hermione came and sat on the arm of the chair he was sitting in.
‘Did you just call me ‘Giggle-fit’?’
‘Yes I did!’
‘How are we to blame for your highly entertaining escapades?’ Harry asked, ignoring Hermione’s outraged look.
‘You could have stopped me at any time!’
‘Yes but where would the fun be in that?’ Hermione said with a smile. ‘Personally, I found you proposing to a fifteen year old girl highly amusing! With everything that’s been going on I think we all needed a laugh!’
‘Oh, so that’s all I am to you, is it? An entertainment service?’
‘Oh of course not, Ronald!’ she snapped. ‘You’re an educational service too! I think all the Gryffindor boys learned how not to propose to the one they love tonight, didn’t they, Harry!’
Harry burst out laughing. Ron glared at the both of them.
‘She has a point Ron, what on earth possessed you to A, propose to her, and B, decide to have the house elves carry her on a specially made throne to you so you could do it?’
Hermione tried her hardest to suppress the giggles that were building up inside her throat again, and, for the minute managed to. She wasn’t sure how long it would be before she fell off the chair laughing, however.
‘Well, I thought she’d like being the centre of attention!’
‘The centre of attention!’ Harry spluttered. ‘Ron, she was unbelievably annoyed about being woken up at half eight on a Saturday morning, went back to bed and then found herself being levitated down the steps by four House Elves and you on one knee at the bottom of the stairs with - and I do believe it was at this point that you lost your current girlfriend - one of the links to the ‘my sweetheart’ chain Lavender bought you for Christmas enlarged to the size of a ring! I think ‘centre of attention’ is the biggest understatement of the century. Everyone was staring at her, and as much as she likes being the centre of attention in some situations, I don’t think this one was of them.’
Ron was about to try and respond in his defence, but Hermione interrupted his almost word, with many of her own.
‘Oh dear lord! That necklace was for you?’ she said through stifled giggles.
‘You’ve seen it?’ Ron half shouted at her.
‘Of course I have! She was waving it around the dormitory for the week before we broke up for Christmas! I didn’t really take notice of what it said, but I was nearly blinded by the damn thing every time she took it out the box to make sure it hadn’t spontaneously vanished of it’s own accord!’
Ron huffed and crossed his arms across his chest.
‘It’s not that flashy!’
‘Ron, hanging a neon sign around your neck would be less flashy than that necklace,’ Harry replied, still grinning.
‘Aren’t we wandering off the point a little?’ Hermione asked, and Ron was grateful for the change of subject. ‘I do believe we were discussing Ron’s failure of a proposal to Romilda Vane at eight forty-three this morning!’
Ron groaned.
‘Can’t we just wander off that point forever?’
‘Oh, no no no! I don’t think that’s possible at all!’ Hermione said seriously but with a smile tugging at her lips. ‘I do believe we are going to remind you of this day for a long time to come.’
‘You know, the nice best friend-esque thing to do would be to let me forget it quietly and just pretend it didn’t happen. That’s what best friends do!’
‘And we will, Ron,’ Harry said seriously, before breaking into a smile, ‘but give us tonight to laugh our arses off first, eh?’
Ron scowled and sunk a little deeper into his chair.
‘Right where were we?’ Hermione asked. She held up her hand and counted off on her fingers. ‘First you nearly killed me and woke up all Gryffindor girls, then you had Romilda carried down the stairs by house elves, then you proposed to her in full view of everyone in Gryffindor, then you decided the best way to her heart was to serenade here with a classic of Celestina Warbeck’s…was that when she dragged him out the room Harry, to stop the staring?’
‘Ah no, Hermione, you forgot the final thing he did. I, personally, didn’t realise he had such artistic skills!’
‘Oh, of course! How could I forget that! In fact I’m surprised it hasn’t been burned onto my retinas!’
‘Actually, I take back my earlier comment, Ron,’ Harry said. ‘I think that is possibly flashier than your necklace.’
Ron threw a cushion at him. Harry’s glasses were knocked askew and he didn’t notice Hermione fall off the arm of the chair after being dislodged by the cushion being moved.
‘He-hem!’ Hermione said angrily form the floor.
Ron turned round to where he was expecting Hermione to be.
‘Oh! Sorry, Hermione!’
He reached over the chair and took her hand, helping her to her feet. She wisely took the seat next to Ron’s and sat down safely.
‘So, Ronald,’ Hermione said, an evil glint in her eye. ‘Has the ‘I love Romilda Vane’ bright orange glitter tattoo been removed from your backside or not?’
Somehow she managed to keep a straight face until she had finished her sentence, but then doubled up in laughter and ended up on the floor once more. At least this time it was voluntary.
Harry had also started giggling in insane amounts and Ron had gone very red, for what must have been the hundredth time that day.
After five minutes of non-stop giggles, Hermione managed to gain a small amount of composure.
‘W-well?’ she asked, still laughing.
‘No,’ Ron mumbled.
The giggle fit started once again, and tears were streaming down both Hermione and Harry’s faces.
‘You can stop now, if you like!’ Ron said, irritably.
In all fairness, they did try and calm down, wiping their tears off their faces and sitting back in their chairs properly, but on occasion they both looked like they were fighting against throwing up, such were the strength of their giggles.
‘Sorry,’ Harry mumbled.
Ron looked pointedly at Hermione.
‘Sorry,’ she said, as sincerely as she could manage.
‘You could at least tell me how I get it off!’
‘How would we know how to get it off?’ Harry exclaimed.
‘Well, considering your middle name is ‘jammy git who can get his arse out of any situation’ and she’ he pointed at Hermione, ‘knows everything, I’m guessing one of you can help me get rid of it.’
Their eyes narrowed at his comments, but they did, this time, keep their mouths shut.
‘I don’t understand why you can’t get it off yourself!’ Hermione squawked.
‘Because I used one of Fred and George’s products, all right! I know it was a stupid thing to do, but I wasn’t exactly thinking clearly at the time, was I?’
‘Wait, your brothers make a product that lets you brand yourself in orange glitter?’ Hermione asked.
‘Not specifically orange glitter, no,’ Ron replied. ‘You can have any colour you want, but I chose Orange!’
‘Cannons?’ Harry asked.
‘Cannons,’ Ron replied.
‘And asking Fred and George for the antidote slash potion slash couterspell is too easy is it?’ Hermione asked.
‘You think I’m going to tell them what I did and where I did it?’ Ron replied, looking at Hermione as if she was stupid.
‘Well, you don’t have to tell them exactly what happened,’ she retorted.
‘No, you don’t,’ Harry said quietly. ‘Not when Ginny’s already written to the telling them exactly what happened, this morning.’
Ron visibly wilted in his seat, after going the darkest shade of red Harry had ever seen.
‘Kill me now. Please, just put me out of my misery and kill me now.’
‘No, I don’t think I will. Not when Pigwidgeon’s standing on the windowsill with what looks like a violently purple envelope.’
Harry got up and opened the window. The small owl flew in and landed on top of Ron’s head. Ron snatched the letter off the fluff ball and it happily flew out of the window and towards the owlery.
‘Oh, crap!’ Ron said, staring at the envelope.
Whilst the parchment was not red in colour, it was obviously a howler and had indeed started to smoke.
Ron sagged to the floor and opened the envelope. For extra protection, (from what, he wasn’t sure) he crawled underneath the table.
The envelope let out a shower of purple stars and hovered three feet above the ground.
‘Our dearest Ronniekins,
It is our absolute delight that you have been using our products to such an interesting effect.
We are, of course, happy to provide you with any other of our products free of charge, if you promise to entertain us as much as you did today. In fact we are thinking of hiring you on a permanent basis as a tester for our products and we suggest you seriously consider a career with us after you leave school. We will accommodate you in any way if we get laughs like you gave us this afternoon.
Now, because we are such brilliant brothers, we have, in this envelope, enclosed - and written on flameproof parchment of course, available from our store for seven sickles for a pack of twenty sheets - the countercharm needed to reverse the effects of the product you fantastically displayed for us today.
Ron hurried out from underneath the table and lunged for the envelope, which was still hovering in mid air. It jumped out of the way of Ron’s grip and sent more purple stars at him, fending him off.
Ah ah! Patience Ronnie, you will have your counterspell soon enough.
Ron scowled at the envelope and retreated back under his table.
We would just like to finish by congratulating you on making your coming of age a memorable day for so many people and thank you for brightening our day considerably. And while we have your attention and the other Gryffindors who are no doubt watching you listen to this-
Harry and Hermione took a quick glance around the common room, and, sure enough, every other Gryffindor who was in the room was transfixed by the hovering purple envelope. They couldn’t help but share a small smile.
‘if you would like to purchase our ‘All Colour, No Smudge, Removable With One Quick and Painless Charm (available at an extra cost) Tattoo Ink’ then come and give Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes at ninety-six Diagon Alley a visit. Anyone giving us any further details of Ronald Weasley’s seventeenth birthday escapades will get a ten percent discount. We look forward to seeing you soon!’
The parchment burst into a shower of purple stars and a small, folded piece of parchment fluttered into Ron’s hands.
‘Er, I think you can come out now, Ron,’ Hermione said to the table.
Slowly Ron came out from under the table and sank back in his chair.
‘I’m gonna kill them,’ he muttered through his fingers.
‘In all fairness, Ron, they could have made things a lot worse. They gave you the counterspell at least. You can get rid of all the evidence now!’
‘It’s gonna obliviate everyone in Gryffindor, is it?’ Ron shot at Harry, still a fantastic shade of red.
Harry smirked. ‘Well, no, I suppose not.’
Ron sighed and looked at the parchment in his hand. He stood up and sighed again.
‘If anyone asks where I am or what I’m doing, DO NOT tell them!’
Harry grinned.
‘Well, if you need any help, Ron, you know where we are!’ Hermione said, a small smirk on her face.
‘Oh ha-bloody-ha!’
He turned and stomped his way up the stairs.
He went through his blame list in his head again. Harry, Fred, George, Romilda and Hermione. Yes, that was fine, that was a good list of people he could blame for his oh-so-embarrassing behaviour.
He flopped down on his bed, glad that Seamus, Neville and Dean were nowhere to be seen, although that could mean that they had just witnessed the entertainment downstairs, he hadn’t looked at anyone except Harry and Hermione. Nevertheless he was alone now and could attend to his…problem.
He unfolded the parchment and read the writing.
Dearest Ronald,
The spell you are after is
Scriptum remotio,
Before you go pointing your wand at your arse and hoping for the best, we thought we’d inform you that it is not recommended you use this spell on your own arse. Should you accidentally point your wand at a part of your arse not covered in your Cannon’s-orange glitter, it may just happen to remove, well, anything else that’s there instead. We therefore suggest you get someone else to conduct the spell for you, as much as this may be embarrassing on some level, if you are clever you could also use it to your advantage. I’m sure a certain best friend of yours would be more than willing to help you remove the declaration of love, so carefully placed on your arse cheeks, and you never know, all that practice with a certain witch may have come in handy. If you cannot learn from your mistakes, Ronald, what on earth is the point of making them in the first place?
You are welcome in advance, dearest brother.
Enjoy!
Fred & George.
‘GITS’ Ron exclaimed before throwing himself back on his covers.
He thought for a moment, then thought about his options. He could attempt the spell himself and hope to Merlin he didn’t miss and banish part of his arse, or…no, maybe not the best idea in the world. Okay, option two was to ask someone else to do it. Really there was only two people he would trust with such a…delicate operation, Harry and Hermione.
While this day had been far from perfect, he could at least salvage something from it. And, his brothers may, on this occasion, be right. He had learned from them about turning something round to his own advantage, so he decided to throw all caution to the wind and ask for help.
He shoved the parchment in his pocket and walked back down the stairs.
Both Harry and Hermione stopped talking and looked at him.
‘Er,’ he said, catching their eye. He focused on one of the chairs and felt himself going red. ‘Would you mind helping me with the spell? I can’t do it on my own.’
He got a grin in reply.
‘Of course!’
As he turned to go back up the stairs he couldn’t help but grin broadly.
Maybe his seventeenth birthday was going to end better than he could have possibly hoped for.
Yes, much better.