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Author: Calixa Story: Another Diaper, My Dear? Rating: Teens Setting: Pre-HBP Status: Completed Reviews: 3 Words: 11,741
A/N: Might be a good idea not to eat or drink while reading this. Mild language, some silliness, and a lot of random schtick. I swear it was my mom who gave me the plot bunny. Also, thanks to Sherry for beta-reading, and I know Brits say 'nappy' not 'diaper' but 'diaper' has such a better ring to it in the title. ~*~ "What about in a boiling kettle, with triple-fanged Snakeworms floating about, biting at his kneecaps?" suggested Ron, laying his wand down on Snape's desk and getting down on his knees. "Or we could put rash-powder in his soup!" "No," replied Harry, viciously scrubbing the crusty rim of a cauldron that Snape had sneeringly informed him 'needed attention.' They were in detention, and as was to be expected, neither of them was particularly enjoying it. Harry, looking like he wanted to throw up, gritted his teeth and scraped away at a stubborn chunk of something brown clinging to the outside of the cauldron he was battling with. "Not nearly enough." "You're right," conceded Ron, wiping the liquid-drenched floor around his own cauldron. He backed towards Snape's desk, wiping as he went and muttering loudly. "He needs to be with his own kind, how about some pus-oozing–" He cut off his sentence abruptly, cursing. He'd accidentally backed into Snape's desk, and had knocked over some flasks the greasy-haired Potions Master had left on it. "Ouch!" said Ron, trying to stand up but hitting his head onto the rim of the table painfully. The table wobbled and something flew into the air and landed with a splash. "Ron…" His heart sank as he stood up, slowly. Harry was standing by his cauldron, looking troubled. He stared at Ron uneasily. "What?" croaked Ron. "Your wand…" He stared around wildly, looking for it. It was gone. He panicked. "It fell in the cauldron," said Harry, eyes wide. "Well, fish it out, then!" he exclaimed, tossing the drenched rag aside and bounding over to where Harry stood. They both stared into the depths of the murky cauldron. It was filled with a disgusting looking greenish liquid, in which floated bits of unidentifiable debris – gunk Harry had chipped off the rim. Ron groaned. "I'm not fishing anything out of that," said Harry bluntly. "It looks poisonous. I bet Snape left whatever's in there on purpose for me." "You call yourself my friend!" Harry ignored his outburst, and said calmly, "Can't we just pour it out?" "Into what?" Ron demanded. Harry clamped his mouth shut. Then he opened it again, and said shiftily, "Well, it's your wand." Ron shot him a glare, and bravely rolled up his sleeves. No, on second thought, that wasn't a good idea at all… he unrolled them again, breathing deeply. Ron wrinkled his nose – Merlin, this thing stinks… do I really want my sleeves sopping with this stuff? He shook himself, and rolled his right sleeve up again. Harry watched him in silence, wisely keeping his comments to himself. Ron was not in the mood. He was not having a good day at all. "Ugh…" he said, dunking his right hand into the nasty water. Harry flinched. "Oh Merlin, it's slimy… this is the most disgusting thing ever…" Harry cringed. "Have you found it yet?" "I… think so… ugh, no… dunno what that was… wait, I think I've got it this time… yes!" He lifted his hand, his wand clasped in it, dripping some nasty, slimy green liquid. Ron pulled a face and waved it about, looking for something to wipe it on. He wasn't about to soil his robes – although they were already far gone, covered in bits of goop and stains – "Stop that! You're splashing me with gunk!" "Shut it," said Ron moodily. He reached for the rag he'd used earlier to wipe the floor and used the cleanest bits he could find to swipe at the greasy stuff sticking to his wand. "I wish Snape would just die," he said viciously. Ron was just not having a good day. *** And his day only got worse. His wand seemed to hate him now that he had let it suffer the horrible fate of being submerged in a cauldronful of some unknown liquid. Not only that, it remained stubbornly greasy, no matter what he used to clean it. Dinner was a sordid affair, what with Hermione worked up about an upcoming Potions test – bloody Snape again – and Harry seemed distant as well, opting to spend the hour or so they sat in the Great Hall staring at Ginny's hair. He practically ate his supper in silence, and it didn't help his mood. What Ron needed was a good de-stressor. And he could only think of one thing that could accomplish the mean feat of destressing him that day. A snogfest, of course. There was nothing more relaxing than making out with your girlfriend, he believed. No doubt about it. "I really don't think this is a good idea," murmured Hermione, and even in the darkness, Ron could see the flush spreading across her cheeks. She was awfully pretty in her nightgown, he thought, though he would never have the nerve to tell her that out loud. They stood just outside the Gryffindor Common Room, having just sneaked out. "But we hardly ever get any time alone," Ron said, trying to sound disappointed and not whiny. It worked. "I just want some time with you, without having to fight off a gaggle of first years for your attention." A small, shy smile came over her face, and she ducked her head, to avoid meeting his gaze directly. "We could go back to the common room," he suggested, feeling more confident. Maybe I'm actually doing this right, for once. She blushed hard this time, and her voice was slightly squeaky. "What if someone comes down and sees us?" "Well, it's not like we have anything to hide," said Ron, his face burning as well. "Unless you don't want to have to explain…" "No, you're right…" she murmured. "Where are we going?" "I dunno… somewhere quiet?" "OK." What? No argument? Just an 'OK'? Ron's confidence soared again. I think she's actually trusting me to find a place, this time. Merlin, it might actually – "There's a door there, Ron-" "Isn't that the broom cupboard?" "Erm- I think it might be…" Whoa. "Well – er – do you want to go in?" "… um, why not?" They yanked open the door and tumbled inside with a faint oomph. Hermione fell against him, much to his secret pleasure, and she swayed for a split second, enough time for him to warrant sliding his arm around her to steady her. She buried her face in his chest briefly, and mumbled something muffled, but Ron was too distracted by the sensation of having her in his arms to notice. A weird shuffling noise floated towards him from the back of the closet, but it was soon drowned out by the more alarming sound of footsteps echoing outside the door. "Filch!" he whispered. Hermione looked up at him with wide, fearful eyes. He shook his head and pressed a finger to his lips. She was now pressed quite tightly against him and he had to turn slightly so that she wouldn't notice some very embarrassing bodily reactions of his. Ron could feel his ears going red. This was not going over very well. Filch was rounding the corner, humming almost jauntily, something that Ron found both amusing and terrifying at the same time. "Come along now, my sweet," cackled Filch, and they both held their breaths as he passed (which felt like an eternity). "I don't want to keep Irma waiting." Irma? Who's Irma? The door was open a crack, and despite his precarious position, Ron couldn't resist taking a peek. Through the thin sliver of an opening he saw Filch in a hideous polka dot (??) suit, straightening what looked like a green bow tie in the reflective surface of a suit of armor propped up against the wall opposite the closet door. Ron heard Hermione suck in a deep breath – he clamped his hand over her mouth to stifle the inevitable giggles building up (honestly, girls!) – Fortunately at the same time Filch chuckled at his reflection and her blunder went unnoticed. "I hope she likes fudge," said Filch again, sounding excited. There was an anticipatory quality to his tone that made Ron want to shudder. "Big plans tonight, Mrs. Norris…" His voice, filled with glee, trailed off, letting them know that he had gone. Ron sighed in relief and closed his eyes. He let his hand fall back against the wall, loosening his hold over Hermione's mouth. There were a few minutes of silence, in which neither of them spoke. Ron felt his hands sliding off Hermione's face and down her arm to circle around her waist. He felt her hands creeping around his neck. In the darkness their lips sought out each other's, and Ron thought that Hermione had to have the softest damn lips on the face of the earth. They kind of melded into each other as the kiss deepened, and Ron's heart was racing so fast he thought he might keel over from overexcitement. That train of thought disappeared quickly as he lost himself in the kiss; Hermione felt so good in his arms that he decided he would have to find some way to make the feeling last forever. All the pent-up tension and stress in his body melted away, even the memory of his wand falling into Snape's cauldron didn't seem to matter anymore – all that mattered was that he was kissing Hermione, and that she was kissing him back just as enthusiastically, her fingers running lightly through his hair and- Wait a bloody minute! If those were her hands tangled in his hair, then whose hand was it that was resting on his arse? Ron broke the kiss abruptly. "What in the blazes –" Utter silence. Then, a disbelieving voice asked, "Ron?" Hermione gasped in his arms, and said, mortified, "Ginny?" All hell broke loose. "What the hell are you doing here?" Ron and Ginny both exclaimed in unison. A distinctly male – Ron's ears started ringing – and distinctly panicked-sounding voice muttered something about arses in the very back of the cupboard. "Is that a boy?" he demanded hotly, letting go of Hermione. "None of your business!" snapped Ginny. "What the hell are you doing in here with my sister?" "Ron!" "Who is he?" "I said, NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS," shouted Ginny angrily, "You snog whomever you like, and I'll snog who I like!" "I'm going to hex that bastard into oblivion!" "Don't you dare!" He whipped out his wand, ignoring the oily feeling in his palm and reached out blindly with his hand. He grabbed someone – he hoped it was Ginny – and shoved her aside, shouting, "Stupefy!" at the stupid prat who actually had the gall to take his sister into a broom cupboard, in the middle of the night, and snog her! "No! We didn't snog yet!" Confusion took over in the tiny, dark, cramped space. Ron felt his wand tingle and tremble in his hand, and a jet of bright blue light shot out of it, momentarily lighting up Ginny's face. She looked ready to murder him, and he took a stumbling step back as she lunged forwards. Someone else shouted something, the flash of light faded, and scuffling noises ensued and Ron struggled with the hands pulling at his face. Ginny hit him hard around the ears – or, at least, he thought it was Ginny – and he felt someone's hand close over his wrist, trying to wrench his wand out of his grip. Ron fought back bravely, however, and he managed to fend off his attackers. Hermione shrieked as Ron elbowed someone, heard a thud, and made a triumphant growl in the back of his throat. He cast two more stunning spells in rapid succession, ignoring the way his wand trembled. A second later he felt a hex slam full force into his own chest. There was another wrangled cry, this time issuing from his own throat, and a loud bang that knocked him off his feet. Ron crumpled to the floor, blackness enveloping him. *** Ron awoke to the sound of someone slapping his face. He started, and groggily sat up. "What? What is it? Where am I?" "Sorry to wake you up," said a voice he dimly recognized. A small, pale face in round glasses a few sizes too big for him stared down at Ron. "But I think we've got a bit of an issue here." "That idiot!" snapped another voice, distinctly a girl's – sounded like a first year – Ron rubbed his eyes and wondered what a first year was doing in the closet with him, Hermione and Ha- He sat bolt upright. "Harry?" Harry smiled politely at him, but his smile was strained. "Hello. Ginny's here too." He gestured over his shoulder at the small figure sitting crouched in the corner, her arms crossed and her red hair sticking out in random masses. She glared at him. Ron felt his heart sink like a stone into the bottom of his stomach. "What happened to you?" he croaked. Harry held out his arms, flopping helplessly in the lengths of the sleeves of the robe he was wearing. It bunched around his feet as well. He shook his head. "Ron, you tried to hex me last night." "Tried?" said Ginny hysterically from her corner, her voice definitely more than a few octaves higher than he remembered her having, "He knocked us all out! Hermione's still out cold!" "Oh, Merlin," whispered Ron, remembering now as the colour drained from his face. "That was you?" Harry nodded gravely. "I think your wand went berserk." Ron stared at him in disbelief. "The spell backfired," said Harry slowly, taking a deep, shaky breath. "Ron… I think I'm ten years old." ***
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