fic for zeft: A Hufflepuff Holiday (Ernie, other Hufflepuffs, G)
Title: A Hufflepuff Holiday
Recipient: zeft
Rating: G
Characters: Ernie Macmillan, and the rest of the Hufflepuff seventh years
Warnings: None
Author's Notes: Thanks very much to war_n_peace for the lovely beta job! :)
--
Ernie Macmillan didn't remember any of the marks he'd gotten in nursery school, but he was very sure the ones for arts and crafts had been quite low.
And yet here he was, coerced into decorating the Hufflepuff common room. Using glitter. Lots of glitter. So much glitter, in fact, that Ernie felt as if he would never be clean and unshiny again in his life.
The spell itself was even complicated, or it was to Ernie's mind, anyway. Of course, it wasn't like any dunderhead with a wand couldn't do it--and Ernie would be the first to let anyone know, he was no dunderhead--but rather the concept. Who would ever need to know a charm to attach glitter to little colorful bulbs? What would that do for you, in the long run?
At the moment, he was wondering how he would get seventeen baubles, purple, tacky and so lovingly decorated by jaded eleven-year-olds, to stay up on the ceiling. He leaned against the back of the bright yellow sofa and looked helplessly up at the wooden beams overhead.
"All right there, Ernie?" said Susan, smiling sweetly.
Ernie sneezed. Glitter on the floor rose and fell like dust. He scowled. "Fine," he grumbled. "Dandy, actually."
"Oh, don't be such a Scrooge, love. Everything looks absolutely divine. And besides, we all could use a bit of cheer."
"I don't really think we needed this much glitter, though," replied Ernie. "You know, I think I am allergic to it. I think I should go upstairs and take a bit of a, you know, lie-down. I'll be straight back down, though, right snappy, and I'll help you clean up." He began to abandon his armful of purple baubles on the small end table, but Susan laid a hand on his arm.
"Honestly, darling, if you think you're going to get away with that you clearly don't know me very well. Come on, this is the last bit, anyway--wait, no, Megan! That isn't funny!"
Susan had been distracted by the sight of Megan Jones charming sprigs of holly to follow a group of distressed second and third years, hurling insults. Justin and Zacharias were in a corner collapsing in laughter.
Ernie sighed and turned his attention back to his project. Maybe if he just hung them on the mantle of the fireplace--Achoo!
He was going to get some kind of glitter-related sickness, he knew it. Like developing a taste for bad disco.
He shuddered involuntarily.
"Need help with that?" asked a soft voice. He looked to his left and saw Hannah smiling at him. She looked rather amused.
"Well, no," he said, adopting a deep, masculine, you-know-you-want-me voice that, frankly, was not his and never would be. "I reckon I'll be finished in a bit. What about you? Susan gave you loads."
"Oh, I finished half an hour ago," said Hannah.
Ernie mightn't have made the face he did if he didn't know that Hannah's task had included the entire Christmas tree, all nine windows, and coming up with enough candy canes to whet the appetites of sixteen voracious, greedy first years.
He gaped at her. She continued smiling.
"It wasn't that hard, really," she assured him.
All he'd had to do was string the popcorn and do the thing with the baubles, and so far it had turned out to be the most difficult task he'd had since that thing this summer with the coersion into babysitting and the bath time and the surprise bathroom break.
Ah. He'd been trying to repress that memory. He made a face, one that Hannah apparently noticed, because she said, "Are you sure you're quite all right?"
"Er, yes. No. Um."
Hannah looked at him expectantly.
Two first years close to tears ran past closely followed by holly that was screaming in a voice that sounded oddly like a very upset Mrs. Jones, "YOU TWO DON'T DESERVE CHRISTMAS PRESENTS! WHAT YOU DESERVE, YOUNG MEN, ARE TWO VERY LONG AND HARD SPANKINGS."
Ernie and Hannah stared.
"Make Megan make it stop, please," one of the first years appealed to Ernie and Hannah. He was a tiny boy with dark brown hair and, at the present moment, was as pale as the Fat Friar after sleeping on a block of ice. "Please, please."
"We'll do anything, tell her," promised the other. "Anything."
"Did I hear the words 'personal slave'?" said Megan, having somehow evaded a lecture from Susan. She was sucking on a candy cane and looked like a particularly sneaky convict from any of the library of Muggle movies Ernie had watched at Justin's house in the past six summers.
"Is that good for them?" Ernie asked.
Megan raised an eyebrow at him.
He didn't say any more.
"YOU'RE TWO DISGRACEFUL LITTLE HOOLIGANS IS WHAT YOU ARE," chastised the holly, "AND YOU SHAN'T HAVE ANY CHRISTMAS PUDDING."
"I really don't think," began Hannah.
"All right, all right," said Megan, and suddenly the sprig of holly adorned the bottom of a now-festive picture frame.
One of the first years fainted.
Hannah turned to him. "So you're good, then?"
Ernie paused. "I don't suppose you could you help me put these up?"
Five minutes and several more glitter-induced sneezes later, someone dimmed all of the lights in the common room. There were students--few and far between as they were, because of the war--scattered all over, including the first and second years now recovered from their run-ins with vicious, cranky holly. Megan and Zach were in a corner, probably scheming another way to frighten every Hufflepuff half to death. The other four seventh years stood in the middle of the room, admiring the baubles, the red and green paper chains, and the yellow and black Christmas tree.
"Happy Christmas," said someone, and, in different degrees of timing, the rest of the Hufflepuffs replied.
Ernie had a hunch none of the other houses were quite like this.
Recipient: zeft
Rating: G
Characters: Ernie Macmillan, and the rest of the Hufflepuff seventh years
Warnings: None
Author's Notes: Thanks very much to war_n_peace for the lovely beta job! :)
--
Ernie Macmillan didn't remember any of the marks he'd gotten in nursery school, but he was very sure the ones for arts and crafts had been quite low.
And yet here he was, coerced into decorating the Hufflepuff common room. Using glitter. Lots of glitter. So much glitter, in fact, that Ernie felt as if he would never be clean and unshiny again in his life.
The spell itself was even complicated, or it was to Ernie's mind, anyway. Of course, it wasn't like any dunderhead with a wand couldn't do it--and Ernie would be the first to let anyone know, he was no dunderhead--but rather the concept. Who would ever need to know a charm to attach glitter to little colorful bulbs? What would that do for you, in the long run?
At the moment, he was wondering how he would get seventeen baubles, purple, tacky and so lovingly decorated by jaded eleven-year-olds, to stay up on the ceiling. He leaned against the back of the bright yellow sofa and looked helplessly up at the wooden beams overhead.
"All right there, Ernie?" said Susan, smiling sweetly.
Ernie sneezed. Glitter on the floor rose and fell like dust. He scowled. "Fine," he grumbled. "Dandy, actually."
"Oh, don't be such a Scrooge, love. Everything looks absolutely divine. And besides, we all could use a bit of cheer."
"I don't really think we needed this much glitter, though," replied Ernie. "You know, I think I am allergic to it. I think I should go upstairs and take a bit of a, you know, lie-down. I'll be straight back down, though, right snappy, and I'll help you clean up." He began to abandon his armful of purple baubles on the small end table, but Susan laid a hand on his arm.
"Honestly, darling, if you think you're going to get away with that you clearly don't know me very well. Come on, this is the last bit, anyway--wait, no, Megan! That isn't funny!"
Susan had been distracted by the sight of Megan Jones charming sprigs of holly to follow a group of distressed second and third years, hurling insults. Justin and Zacharias were in a corner collapsing in laughter.
Ernie sighed and turned his attention back to his project. Maybe if he just hung them on the mantle of the fireplace--Achoo!
He was going to get some kind of glitter-related sickness, he knew it. Like developing a taste for bad disco.
He shuddered involuntarily.
"Need help with that?" asked a soft voice. He looked to his left and saw Hannah smiling at him. She looked rather amused.
"Well, no," he said, adopting a deep, masculine, you-know-you-want-me voice that, frankly, was not his and never would be. "I reckon I'll be finished in a bit. What about you? Susan gave you loads."
"Oh, I finished half an hour ago," said Hannah.
Ernie mightn't have made the face he did if he didn't know that Hannah's task had included the entire Christmas tree, all nine windows, and coming up with enough candy canes to whet the appetites of sixteen voracious, greedy first years.
He gaped at her. She continued smiling.
"It wasn't that hard, really," she assured him.
All he'd had to do was string the popcorn and do the thing with the baubles, and so far it had turned out to be the most difficult task he'd had since that thing this summer with the coersion into babysitting and the bath time and the surprise bathroom break.
Ah. He'd been trying to repress that memory. He made a face, one that Hannah apparently noticed, because she said, "Are you sure you're quite all right?"
"Er, yes. No. Um."
Hannah looked at him expectantly.
Two first years close to tears ran past closely followed by holly that was screaming in a voice that sounded oddly like a very upset Mrs. Jones, "YOU TWO DON'T DESERVE CHRISTMAS PRESENTS! WHAT YOU DESERVE, YOUNG MEN, ARE TWO VERY LONG AND HARD SPANKINGS."
Ernie and Hannah stared.
"Make Megan make it stop, please," one of the first years appealed to Ernie and Hannah. He was a tiny boy with dark brown hair and, at the present moment, was as pale as the Fat Friar after sleeping on a block of ice. "Please, please."
"We'll do anything, tell her," promised the other. "Anything."
"Did I hear the words 'personal slave'?" said Megan, having somehow evaded a lecture from Susan. She was sucking on a candy cane and looked like a particularly sneaky convict from any of the library of Muggle movies Ernie had watched at Justin's house in the past six summers.
"Is that good for them?" Ernie asked.
Megan raised an eyebrow at him.
He didn't say any more.
"YOU'RE TWO DISGRACEFUL LITTLE HOOLIGANS IS WHAT YOU ARE," chastised the holly, "AND YOU SHAN'T HAVE ANY CHRISTMAS PUDDING."
"I really don't think," began Hannah.
"All right, all right," said Megan, and suddenly the sprig of holly adorned the bottom of a now-festive picture frame.
One of the first years fainted.
Hannah turned to him. "So you're good, then?"
Ernie paused. "I don't suppose you could you help me put these up?"
Five minutes and several more glitter-induced sneezes later, someone dimmed all of the lights in the common room. There were students--few and far between as they were, because of the war--scattered all over, including the first and second years now recovered from their run-ins with vicious, cranky holly. Megan and Zach were in a corner, probably scheming another way to frighten every Hufflepuff half to death. The other four seventh years stood in the middle of the room, admiring the baubles, the red and green paper chains, and the yellow and black Christmas tree.
"Happy Christmas," said someone, and, in different degrees of timing, the rest of the Hufflepuffs replied.
Ernie had a hunch none of the other houses were quite like this.