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Summary: A momentary lapse
in concentration leads to a stressful few days for Harry Potter.
Category: Comedy
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK
Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books,
Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros. Inc. No money is being
made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Author’s Note:This is a little piece of nonsense set in Harry’s 5th Year
that is intended to gently amuse, nothing more. Sorry about the use of the Yule Ball element; we know it’s
over-used but it happened to suit our lack of plot! Anyway, we had great fun writing it and hope it raises a smile or
two!
Harry Potter could not sleep. He found himself in a predicament.
Facing a problem was not an unusual state of
affairs for him; Harry had faced many dilemmas, and some occurred on what felt
like a weekly basis. There was the
Filch dilemma, which usually resulted in a loss of points for Gryffindor and
detention; there was the Snape dilemma, which always resulted in a loss
of points for Gryffindor and detention; and there was the annual let’s try and
finish Harry off once and for all dilemma, which tended to reach its finalé
around the end of each school year.
So, even though it was
only early December, finding himself in somewhat of a predicament came as no
surprise to Harry Potter. What was
troubling him was the nature of the predicament.
His problem was that he
had something in his possession that didn’t belong to him. He needed to return it, discreetly. It was absolutely essential that firstly,
no-one ever knew he had this thing in his possession at all and secondly, that
the owner was unaware of its disappearance and therefore remained ignorant as
to who had it at that precise moment in time.
With a frustrated sigh,
Harry rolled over onto his back and stared at the top of his four-poster
bed. He was used to sleepless nights,
perhaps some inspiration would come to him during the midnight hours.
Harry tried to briefly
summarise his current situation. He had in his possession an item of clothing
belonging to a Gryffindor female. To
cut a long story short, it was a bra.
Harry could feel himself
blushing still at the sheer thought. He
rolled on to his side, well aware that sleep would elude him for the rest of
the night. He tried to logically review
what had happened, mulling over the previous evening’s events. How had he come to be in this situation?
It had been late in the
evening. Ron had been doing detention
for Snape; meanwhile, Hermione had been putting Harry through his paces with
some practice O.W.L. papers. They had
started the evening sitting in front of the common room fire, but had been
forced to move to another table during the middle of the evening.
The 4th year
Muggle Studies class had been having a Muggle week, whereby magic was not
allowed with regard to any household chores (Hermione had been over the moon,
as this meant less work for the house elves).
As a result, the 4th years had all been doing their own laundry and
preparing their own meals. To allow
time for these activities, they had been given one whole week off from homework
in all classes.
As a direct result, all
week there had been assorted clothes drying in front of the common room fire,
and on this particular evening, on seeing the approaching hoards with their
baskets of wet washing, Hermione had ushered Harry to a table in a far corner –
according to Hermione, being surrounded by everyone’s wet clothing was not
conducive to quality studying time.
However, as they
gathered their belongings and moved away to somewhere less distracting, Harry’s
attention had been caught by the fact that tonight all the clothing appeared to
be underwear. It wasn’t that he intended
to notice, so much as it was hard to miss when you were surrounded by it.
Harry groaned into his
pillow as he recalled what had happened next.
By 11 o’clock the common
room had been empty. Ron had still not
returned and Hermione showed no sign of ending his torture with the exam
papers.
“Hermione, it’s late.
Can we carry on with this tomorrow evening?” Harry had removed his glasses and
rubbed his eyes wearily.
“Don’t be silly, Harry”,
Hermione replied briskly. “You know you
won’t go to sleep until Ron comes back, so you may as well make good use of the
time. Now, where is your Transfiguration
book – I thought you brought it down with you?” and she rummaged through the
pile of books and papers on the table in front of them.
“I did,” Harry
responded, replacing his glasses with a resigned sigh. He started to sift through the pile of books
on the floor by his chair.
“Oh honestly,” tutted
Hermione. “I’ll go and fetch mine” and
she headed over to the staircase to the girls’ dormitories.
Harry had stood up and
looked around. He knew he had
brought the book downstairs with him; he had used it earlier in the evening. And then he saw it, sitting on the table by
the fire, inaccessible as racks and racks of drying washing surrounded it.
He had pulled out his
wand, muttered a weary ‘accio’; and that’s where something had gone wrong. Clearly his mind had been focusing on
something other than his Transfiguration book, because moments later he was
staring confusedly at his hands, in which lay a bra, one cup resting neatly in
each upturned palm.
With a start, Harry
glanced quickly towards the stairs, realising he could hear Hermione’s
returning footsteps. A faint blush had stolen over his cheeks as realisation
sank in. He had to get this … this thing
back over to the fire.
Before he could react,
however, he heard another noise, and shot round to stare at the portrait hole,
which was slowly opening; Ron was back from detention.
Panicking, his reflexes
had been simply to toss the bra back towards the other washing; unfortunately,
one of the metal clasps had hooked itself in the woollen cuff of his sweater –
the bra now hung limply off his sleeve.
With a whimper, Harry
snatched the bra free and stuffed it into his trouser pocket, just tucking the
last strap out of sight as Hermione emerged from the stairs and Ron crossed the
room from the entrance.
“Harry, you OK,
mate? You look rather flushed” Ron said
as he came nearer.
“Er, no, no I’m
fine. Just a bit … hot. Yes, just hot.”
Ron was eyeing him
curiously.
“I’ve got my book – oh
Ron, you’re back. Good, you can join us,” Hermione was keen to get back to business.
Ron goggled at her. “Hermione! You have to be joking!
I’ve just spent 5 hours cleaning out cauldrons without magic! There is no way I am going to start
studying. I’m going to bed.”
“Er, Hermione? Don’t you
think you need to go to bed too?” Harry suggested. If he could only get them out of the room, he could replace the thing
before anyone found out what had happened.
Hermione gave them both
a fierce frown.
“I suppose you want to
go to bed too, Harry?” and when he shrugged and nodded, “well… OK ….” Harry could feel a wave of relief wash over
him. “But I’m staying down here. I want
to check the answers on that last paper we did. I’m sure you’ll be wanting to know how you did as soon as you get
up tomorrow”. Harry’s relief fizzled
out, as he watched Hermione settle herself down comfortably, clearly planning
on a long stay.
“Oh, yeah,” said Ron
sarcastically. “I’m sure Harry will be
lying awake half the night worrying about that! Come on Harry”, Ron tugged at Harry’s sleeve, “Let’s go” and
yawning he headed for the staircase. Harry had no choice but to follow
reluctantly, very aware of a certain item stuffed in his pocket – he had
to get rid of it.
And so here he was,
tossing and turning in his bed. The
obvious solution would be to wait a few hours – Hermione may well be a
dedicated scholar, but she was also sensible enough to want a decent night’s
sleep – and creep down and replace it under cover of darkness. Harry shuddered slightly at the thought of
having to touch the bra again – he felt a little bit ashamed and extremely
embarrassed. He had never actually been
in close contact with a girl’s item of underwear before and now that he had he
was in no particular rush to do so again.
What bothered him most, however, was the fact that whomever it belonged
to didn’t deserve to have their intimate items of clothing shoved in some boy’s
pocket without their knowledge. What if
it got creased, so that it was obvious it had been concealed
somewhere?
Harry sat up in bed with
a start. He had to take it out and lay
it somewhere flat while he was waiting for the right time to slip downstairs
and replace it.
Quietly, he slipped out
of his bed and picked up the trousers he had been wearing earlier.
Reluctantly,
peering through squinted eyes, as if only half looking would make it go away, Harry
tugged at the strap and the bra sprang free of his pocket and swung tauntingly
from his fingers. He quickly glanced
around the room, reassuring himself that none of his friends could see what he
was doing.
He gave it a little
shake, hoping this would encourage any creases to fall out and then looked
around for somewhere safe, discreet, to lie it until later. Concealing it would be difficult, so he
opened his trunk and laid it on top of his clothes, pulling his hand back
quickly as soon as it was in place. He
grabbed a Quidditch book from inside the trunk to read until he felt it was
safe to head down to the common room and quietly closed the lid.
***
“C’mon Harry, get up!”
Ron’s voice penetrated the thick fog swirling around Harry’s sleepy brain.
Harry opened one eye and
peered at Ron.
“Whass time?” he
mumbled.
“It’s late, didn’t you
sleep or something? Come on, I’m off to
breakfast, see you there.” And Ron left the room.
Harry stretched, shaking
his head free of the dreams that lingered.
He had had a weird one about …. Oh no!
It wasn’t a dream, was it? And
he had fallen asleep! As if to
underline the point, his Quidditch book slid noisily to the floor with a
clatter.
Harry sat up quickly and
glanced around. Everyone had already
left for breakfast. If he was running
late, then perhaps everyone would have gone down to breakfast and he could
sneak down now and replace it before anyone noticed.
Harry quickly threw his
school clothes on, opened the trunk, took a deep breath and grabbed the
offending item, stuffing it once more into a pocket. He dashed down the stairs into the common room and was relieved
to find it empty of people. Hurrying to
the fireplace he skidded to an undignified halt, staring helplessly
around. The common room was definitely
empty, but not just of people. All the
washing from the night before had gone!
It had obviously dried and now its various owners had collected it. Except one of those owners was going to
realise very soon that a certain item was missing. Harry gulped and glanced round the room in a panic, looking
desperately for some idea of what to do next.
‘Brilliant, Harry,’ he
muttered to himself. ‘How do you
propose returning it now when you have no idea who its rightful owner is?’ and
he trudged wearily out of the portrait hole on his way to a late breakfast.
***
All through that day,
Harry paid very little attention to his lessons. All he was aware of was the lump in his pocket that was the thing,
as he had taken to calling it to himself, and the fact that wherever he looked
there were girls and he was suddenly very aware that they were all
probably wearing things just like the one in his pocket.
Just like last year,
when the Yule Ball was announced and Harry had suddenly become aware of how
many girls Hogwarts actually contained, he now came to a similar horrified
conclusion, against his will, over how many things there must be at the
school – bearing in mind each girl must have several. Boys were, in fact, probably out-numbered more than 3 to 1 by … things.
He kept thrashing around
in his mind for a way out. ‘Treat it
like another task in the Triwizard Tournament’, he kept muttering to himself,
but he had to stop that, because Ron was casting him ever more suspicious
glances as the morning wore on. He’d
had help with all those tasks anyway; it wasn’t like he’d solved any of them
with the sheer genius of a plan he’d thought up all on his own.
So perhaps he’d have to
enlist someone’s help. Whose advice
could he ask? Well, who had helped or
tried to help him with the tasks last year?
There was Sirius – well,
he could hardly write to him about this one, could he? Dear Sirius, got any bright ideas on how to
return a piece of underwear to someone? By the way, don’t know who it belongs
to…. No, perhaps not. And he would die
before he approached Hermione about it.
Dobby? No, the thought of Dobby’s high pitched
squeal reverberating around the school with ‘Harry Potter has a bra, Sir? What is Harry Potter doing with a bra,
Sir? Is there something Harry Potter
isn’t telling Dobby, Sir?’ made him pale.
No, that wasn’t an option either.
Ron? Possibly, but then again, possibly not. After all, that was the added complication.
There was another thing
that was worrying Harry in all of this.
There were 5 Gryffindor girls in 4th year. One of them was Ron’s sister, Ginny. What this boiled down to was the fact that
there was a 1 in 5 chance that the thing he had in his possession belonged not
only to his best friend’s sister, but also the girl he … well, there was no
other word for it, really …. fancied.
‘Hey Ron, I’m in a bit
of a fix. I fancy your sister, oh and by the way I have a bra in my possession
which may or may not be hers, got any ideas?’
Harry was certain Ron
would have some ‘ideas’, but he was equally certain that they wouldn’t be along
the lines of helping Harry out.
***
By the end of the day,
Harry was a nervous wreck. He had been
told off in every single lesson for his inattention. Ron and Hermione kept exchanging glances, and were now watching
him with the intensity of a pair of hippogriffs. This day could not get any worse.
He dropped his school
bag by his bed, checked there was no-one in the room and once again tugged the
offending thing out of his pocket.
It was now extremely crumpled.
Thinking he could hear
footsteps, Harry quickly opened his trunk, tossed it inside and dropped the lid
with a clatter. The footsteps went
past, someone climbing to one of the higher dorm rooms.
He changed out of his
school robes, tugged on jeans and a teeshirt and headed down to the common room
to await Ron and Hermione before going to dinner. Thoroughly preoccupied as he was, he bumped straight into someone
as soon as he set foot in the common room.
Ginny.
“I’m sorry,” he said
distractedly and then, in unison, they both said:
“I didn’t see you.”
Harry stared down at
her, transfixed. He wished he could think of something wise or witty to say,
but all he could think was what a lovely shape her big brown eyes were. In fact, some words were almost on his lips,
he had almost summoned the courage to say something, anything, when she
said,
“Excuse me, got to go
look for something,” and she charged up the girls’ staircase without looking
back.
Harry watched her go,
and then her words sank in. Oh
God! He recalled the thing he’d
been hawking round school all day and that was now festering inside his
trunk. Was it actually hers?
Looking frantically round
the room, he spotted Hermione reading a book by the fire.
“Er, Hermione, can I ask
you something?” he approached her cautiously.
He didn’t actually have a clue what he was going to say.
Hermione looked up and
smiled.
“Harry! Are you OK?
You seem very distracted today.
Have you been having dreams again?” there was a note of concern in
Hermione’s voice as she scooted over on the couch to make room for him.
“No, no I have a … er…
thing … on my mind, that’s all.” He replied.
“I was just wondering …. I just ran into Ginny – I mean literally. I didn’t mean to, but she was …. bothered
about something. I wondered if she’d
said anything to you about …. any …. thing that might be troubling her?”
Hermione tilted her head
to one side and studied Harry for a moment.
The pause was long enough for Harry to realise that Ron had just come
through the portrait hole and was approaching them. He willed Hermione to say something quick, or to say nothing at
all, just in case it was incriminating.
“What happened
exactly? If you tell me what she said,
I might be able to shed some light on it for you”.
Not the right response,
Hermione. Harry cast a glance towards
Ron again, but saw with relief he had stopped to chat to Seamus and Dean.
Hermione quickly hid a
smile. “You seem very … concerned,
Harry?” and she raised her eyebrow at him in question.
“Not now,
Hermione!” he hissed at her.
Hermione followed his
gaze and smirked at him.
“OK, not now. Well, I wouldn’t worry too much about her
seeming upset – it’s not you. She’s been out of sorts all day, ever since she
got up this morning and realised some pervert in Gryffindor has run off with an
item of her …. clothing.”
Harry paled, glad that
he had already taken a seat, because his legs felt a little too weak to support
his body. That thing did belong
to Ginny, and she thought he was a pervert. He closed his eyes, wishing he could turn back time. At that moment Ron arrived.
“Hey, Harry, are you
sure you’re OK? You were all flushed
last night, and now you look like you’ve seen a ghost”.
Little did Ron know that
if he saw what Harry had hidden in his trunk at that very moment, there was
every likelihood he would be turning Harry into a ghost in the very near
future.
Continued
in Chapter
Two