Of Teacups and Idiots Part 1 (Barmy Prompts)
Prompt by barmy-owl: One where Ron trips over a teacup and nearly dies and Hermione tries to get all teacups banned because of it. For some reason, Ginny is a wrestler in this one.
Rating: T for swearing
Warning: This fic is just plain silly. And Malfoy is an ass.
“No! I will NOT stay out here while you do god knows what to my husband!” she yelled at the frazzled healer agitatedly.
“Mrs-“
“Let me in there. Just let me see him once,” she pleaded.
“We are working on him, Mrs. Weasley. Please, he needs you to stay calm right now. I will personally relay any update on his situation. Now, do you have any family or friend to keep you company? I mean, apart from…” he nodded towards a cowering, red-head who seemed to be trying his best to blend into the surroundings.
Hermione took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. She knew that the healer was right, she wasn’t helping matters by creating a scene in the waiting room, but her brain had gone into overdrive as soon as she heard Ron was at St. Mungo’s. She nodded at the young healer.
“Yes. Ginny- his sister will be here soon.”
“Alright, good. Please wait right here, we’ll know his status soon.”
She nodded sullenly. Relieved, he quickly scurried off before she could change her mind about screaming at him some more. Hermione watched him disappear into the room where Ron was being held. Before her brain could conjure up any gruesome thoughts, she rounded on George. It was clear that he had been contemplating slinking away before she remembered he existed.
“You.”
The word itself seemed like an accusation.
“Hermione-“
“I swear if anything happens to him, I will bury you,” she hissed, as he stared unbelievingly at her.
“Just please don’t tell mum, Hermione,” he blurted out. He had meant to say sorry.
“Ron is in there, possibly dying,“ she began caustically. “And all you care about is-“
“Ron is dying?” came an alarmed voice behind her. Ginny stood there with Harry, both wide eyed.
“No! No, no one is dying!” said George, desperately.
“He split his head open!” cried Hermione, as a passing healer shushed her angrily.
“What?” Ginny’s voice was faint, and still laced with shock.
“And all George cares about is saving his own hide,” replied Hermione, only slightly lowering her voice.
“Wait, what the hell is going on?” asked Ginny. “Where’s Ron? What’s happened to him?”
“I’d like to know myself. But all the healers would say is that there’s been a lot of blood loss.”
“Perhaps we should let George explain what happened?” ventured Harry timidly.
“Right. Yes. George, you better start talking. What happened exactly?”
“Well, uh, it was…I…“ he stammered incoherently for a moment, if there was one person in the whole world that he was afraid of more than his mother, it was angry Ginny. And with Ron’s life hanging in the balance, Hermione was no less scary. He shook his head.
“It was the teacups.”
“Excuse me?”
“Oh no, not the teacups,” groaned Harry.
“What? What do you know about this?” Hermione seemed ready to pounce on him next.
“I- uh,” Harry cast her a sheepish look.
“He warned me, I should’ve listened to him,” said George, shaking his head.
“What are you on about?” Ginny’s patience was clearly running out.
“Um, we were working on a new product. It involved teacups,” he answered vaguely.
Hermione arched an eyebrow at him. “If you think I’m going to let it go with that, you have another thing coming.”
“Sorry Harry, I’ve got to give her something,” he told Harry apologetically, but Hermione didn’t give him a chance to reply.
“Get on with it!”
“Right. Well, it was actually Ron’s idea. He was developing it for… you-know-what,” he whispered unnecessarily, seeing as the waiting room was completely empty.
“You mean - he told me was done with that!”
Harry studiously avoided her eyes, pretending to find great interest in a spot on the ceiling.
“Don’t be mad at Ron, Hermione. You know how he gets about it, he lives for that stuff,” said Ginny. But it did little to mollify her.
“Tell me about it,” she muttered under her breath.
“What was he doing?” she demanded.
George cast a questioning look at Harry, who nodded resignedly.
“I can’t tell you everything, but remember back in the forest, when the Snatchers came?”
Hermione nodded, confused.
“Remember the Sneakoscope? How it went off when I said Voldy’s name and that’s how we knew they were outside? But unfortunately, it also alerted them to our presence inside the tent, do you remember that?”
“Yes,” she replied, nodding thoughtfully.
“Well, Ron was trying to find a way to make the detection less pronounced. And some other added things that I can’t exactly tell you about. And he thought it might be better to use a more inconspicuous object.”
“Yeah, I don’t reckon Stroulger considered the fact all the flashing and whistling might tip off an intruder,” added George.
“Who the hell is Stroulger?” asked Ginny.
“Edgar Stroulger, the inventor of the Sneakoscope,” replied Hermione, impatiently. “But wait, Ron plans strategies for the department, not create dark detectors!”
“Yes, but he’s also good at making Wheezes, so I figured he might be able to help,” replied Harry.
Hermione nodded, understanding. The great prat had gotten himself into this mess. And he had never even thought to mention it to her.
“Why didn’t you tell me? I mean, clearly George knew-“
“We didn’t really want to tell George either, no offence.”
“None taken, mate,” said George, clapping a hand on his back.
“We had to tell him because Ron wanted to work from the shop.”
“Right. And he used a teacup?” asked Ginny.
“We figured that would be an ordinary enough object.”
“So, something went wrong? It attacked him?” asked Hermione, anxiously.
Harry shrugged and looked at George, who shifted uncomfortably.
“So you did have something to with it, after all,” said Hermione, shifting her attention to him.
“Technically-”
“George!”
“Alright, don’t get your knickers in a twist, woman! I may have asked to modify it for the shop.”
“For fuck's sake, George! You know that’s not for public consumption. It sort of defeats the entire purpose!” Harry exclaimed.
“I wasn’t going to use it exactly like that, give me some credit here! Merlin, you’re just as bad as Ron.”
Harry merely shook his head, exasperated.
“Anyway, I left one of the ones I was working with, on the table at the workshop… and it sort of, wandered away.”
“Wandered - what did you do?”
“I’m not exactly sure, but Ron tripped over it.”
“Wait. Hold on, after all that, you expect me to believe he’s currently lying in his death bed because he merely tripped over-“
“He’s not going to die, Hermione, bloody hell!”
“How do you explain his gashed head then?”
“Tripping over the cup triggered the enchantments Ron had put on it. I had barely been able to lift any of his spells, only made a few tweaks, which apparently caused it to totter off wherever it pleased. So, all of Ron’s spells broke loose around him, and well, it tore him up quite a bit,” George’s voice cracked slightly. “It freaked me out quite a bit, but the healers said it only looked bad. I mean, he did lose a lot of blood, but he’s going to be fine, Hermione.”
Hermione looked somewhat reassured, but still seemed on edge.
“The other things that you couldn’t tell us, Harry. Were those the things that-“ before Ginny could finish, she was interrupted by a familiar drawling voice.
“Well, well, well.”
“Malfoy,” said all four of them, with gritted teeth.
“What’s this I hear? The Weasel got himself killed in a joke shop? Figures,” he said, scornfully. “He never was the brightest candle in the bunch, was he? It was only a matter of time before he snuffed it. Besides, it’s no big loss. One less Weasley in the world is-”
“Ugh, that’s it, Malfoy!” In a flash, Ginny swooped down on him with a yell.
“What on earth.” whispered Hermione, in utter disbelief. All three of them stood still in shock for a moment, watching Ginny and Draco Malfoy engaging in what seemed to be a full-fledged wrestling match. It was a whole minute before the hospital staff realised what was happening. Harry and George, who’d been gaping at the scene, sprung into action.
In vain, they tried to pull Ginny off Draco, as she threw punches at everything in site, including Harry’s jaw. The staff seemed at quite a loss until someone had the sense to call security.
“Have you all forgotten that you’re wizards?” cried Hermione, reaching for her wand. However, the security staff had arrived before she could stupefy any unsuspecting victims. They quickly separated the fighting pair.
“She scratched my eyes out!” complained Draco, loudly.
“Well, it’s nothing you didn’t deserve,” retorted Ginny.
“Miss, please! This is a hospital! There are patients resting,” said an elderly Mediwitch, glaring reproachfully at her.
“I’m very sorry, Madame. But not all of it was her fault,” said Harry, rubbing his jaw.
The gathered crowd had slowly started to disperse. The Mediwitch turned to Harry, intending to look down her long nose at him too, but her face transformed when she saw who was speaking.
“Why, if it isn’t Harry Potter!”
“Uh, yeah. Well, my wife here, she was provoked.”
“Your wife?” her demeanour towards Ginny changed as well.
“Well, let the poor girl go!” she nodded to the wizard who was still holding Ginny’s arms, afraid she’d pounce on Malfoy again, if given a chance. He reluctantly let go, as Malfoy spluttered indignantly.
“Yes, yes, Mr. Malfoy. Let’s get that eye seen to. I must say, you’re being a tad melodramatic,” she said, as she waved at the group and left with a flourish of her robes. Malfoy glowered at everyone, but quietly followed her down the corridor.
“What in Merlin’s name was that, Ginny? Your brother’s in the hospital and you go around behaving like a child, picking fights with-!”
“I’m sorry, Hermione! But it really gets to me when Malfoy starts insulting my family. Ron’s not the only one who’s allowed to get angry, you know.”
“Well, I would have much rather seen you pull a Bat Bogey Hex, but I quite enjoyed watching you pummel him,” said George, chuckling.
But Hermione had already lost interest in the conversation.
“Healer Lash!” she exclaimed, spotting the healer come out of Ron’s room.
“Ah! Mrs. Weasley, there you are. You can rest easy now. Your husband’s condition is stable. We were able to stop the bleeding and currently have him on blood replenishing potions.”
“So, he’s going to be alright?” interjected Harry, as Hermione collapsed into one of the seats in relief.
“Yes, he’s going to be absolutely fine, Mr. Potter. You can go in to see him now, if you wish, Mrs. Weasley,” he added kindly.
“Thank you so much, Healer Lash,” she replied gratefully, and hurried into the private room that the healer had come out of. The other three, who pushed past Lash despite his protests, quickly followed her.
“One at a time, please,” he called.
“Yeah, not happening mate!” replied George, with a cheery wave.
Rating: T for swearing
Warning: This fic is just plain silly. And Malfoy is an ass.
“No! I will NOT stay out here while you do god knows what to my husband!” she yelled at the frazzled healer agitatedly.
“Mrs-“
“Let me in there. Just let me see him once,” she pleaded.
“We are working on him, Mrs. Weasley. Please, he needs you to stay calm right now. I will personally relay any update on his situation. Now, do you have any family or friend to keep you company? I mean, apart from…” he nodded towards a cowering, red-head who seemed to be trying his best to blend into the surroundings.
Hermione took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. She knew that the healer was right, she wasn’t helping matters by creating a scene in the waiting room, but her brain had gone into overdrive as soon as she heard Ron was at St. Mungo’s. She nodded at the young healer.
“Yes. Ginny- his sister will be here soon.”
“Alright, good. Please wait right here, we’ll know his status soon.”
She nodded sullenly. Relieved, he quickly scurried off before she could change her mind about screaming at him some more. Hermione watched him disappear into the room where Ron was being held. Before her brain could conjure up any gruesome thoughts, she rounded on George. It was clear that he had been contemplating slinking away before she remembered he existed.
“You.”
The word itself seemed like an accusation.
“Hermione-“
“I swear if anything happens to him, I will bury you,” she hissed, as he stared unbelievingly at her.
“Just please don’t tell mum, Hermione,” he blurted out. He had meant to say sorry.
“Ron is in there, possibly dying,“ she began caustically. “And all you care about is-“
“Ron is dying?” came an alarmed voice behind her. Ginny stood there with Harry, both wide eyed.
“No! No, no one is dying!” said George, desperately.
“He split his head open!” cried Hermione, as a passing healer shushed her angrily.
“What?” Ginny’s voice was faint, and still laced with shock.
“And all George cares about is saving his own hide,” replied Hermione, only slightly lowering her voice.
“Wait, what the hell is going on?” asked Ginny. “Where’s Ron? What’s happened to him?”
“I’d like to know myself. But all the healers would say is that there’s been a lot of blood loss.”
“Perhaps we should let George explain what happened?” ventured Harry timidly.
“Right. Yes. George, you better start talking. What happened exactly?”
“Well, uh, it was…I…“ he stammered incoherently for a moment, if there was one person in the whole world that he was afraid of more than his mother, it was angry Ginny. And with Ron’s life hanging in the balance, Hermione was no less scary. He shook his head.
“It was the teacups.”
“Excuse me?”
“Oh no, not the teacups,” groaned Harry.
“What? What do you know about this?” Hermione seemed ready to pounce on him next.
“I- uh,” Harry cast her a sheepish look.
“He warned me, I should’ve listened to him,” said George, shaking his head.
“What are you on about?” Ginny’s patience was clearly running out.
“Um, we were working on a new product. It involved teacups,” he answered vaguely.
Hermione arched an eyebrow at him. “If you think I’m going to let it go with that, you have another thing coming.”
“Sorry Harry, I’ve got to give her something,” he told Harry apologetically, but Hermione didn’t give him a chance to reply.
“Get on with it!”
“Right. Well, it was actually Ron’s idea. He was developing it for… you-know-what,” he whispered unnecessarily, seeing as the waiting room was completely empty.
“You mean - he told me was done with that!”
Harry studiously avoided her eyes, pretending to find great interest in a spot on the ceiling.
“Don’t be mad at Ron, Hermione. You know how he gets about it, he lives for that stuff,” said Ginny. But it did little to mollify her.
“Tell me about it,” she muttered under her breath.
“What was he doing?” she demanded.
George cast a questioning look at Harry, who nodded resignedly.
“I can’t tell you everything, but remember back in the forest, when the Snatchers came?”
Hermione nodded, confused.
“Remember the Sneakoscope? How it went off when I said Voldy’s name and that’s how we knew they were outside? But unfortunately, it also alerted them to our presence inside the tent, do you remember that?”
“Yes,” she replied, nodding thoughtfully.
“Well, Ron was trying to find a way to make the detection less pronounced. And some other added things that I can’t exactly tell you about. And he thought it might be better to use a more inconspicuous object.”
“Yeah, I don’t reckon Stroulger considered the fact all the flashing and whistling might tip off an intruder,” added George.
“Who the hell is Stroulger?” asked Ginny.
“Edgar Stroulger, the inventor of the Sneakoscope,” replied Hermione, impatiently. “But wait, Ron plans strategies for the department, not create dark detectors!”
“Yes, but he’s also good at making Wheezes, so I figured he might be able to help,” replied Harry.
Hermione nodded, understanding. The great prat had gotten himself into this mess. And he had never even thought to mention it to her.
“Why didn’t you tell me? I mean, clearly George knew-“
“We didn’t really want to tell George either, no offence.”
“None taken, mate,” said George, clapping a hand on his back.
“We had to tell him because Ron wanted to work from the shop.”
“Right. And he used a teacup?” asked Ginny.
“We figured that would be an ordinary enough object.”
“So, something went wrong? It attacked him?” asked Hermione, anxiously.
Harry shrugged and looked at George, who shifted uncomfortably.
“So you did have something to with it, after all,” said Hermione, shifting her attention to him.
“Technically-”
“George!”
“Alright, don’t get your knickers in a twist, woman! I may have asked to modify it for the shop.”
“For fuck's sake, George! You know that’s not for public consumption. It sort of defeats the entire purpose!” Harry exclaimed.
“I wasn’t going to use it exactly like that, give me some credit here! Merlin, you’re just as bad as Ron.”
Harry merely shook his head, exasperated.
“Anyway, I left one of the ones I was working with, on the table at the workshop… and it sort of, wandered away.”
“Wandered - what did you do?”
“I’m not exactly sure, but Ron tripped over it.”
“Wait. Hold on, after all that, you expect me to believe he’s currently lying in his death bed because he merely tripped over-“
“He’s not going to die, Hermione, bloody hell!”
“How do you explain his gashed head then?”
“Tripping over the cup triggered the enchantments Ron had put on it. I had barely been able to lift any of his spells, only made a few tweaks, which apparently caused it to totter off wherever it pleased. So, all of Ron’s spells broke loose around him, and well, it tore him up quite a bit,” George’s voice cracked slightly. “It freaked me out quite a bit, but the healers said it only looked bad. I mean, he did lose a lot of blood, but he’s going to be fine, Hermione.”
Hermione looked somewhat reassured, but still seemed on edge.
“The other things that you couldn’t tell us, Harry. Were those the things that-“ before Ginny could finish, she was interrupted by a familiar drawling voice.
“Well, well, well.”
“Malfoy,” said all four of them, with gritted teeth.
“What’s this I hear? The Weasel got himself killed in a joke shop? Figures,” he said, scornfully. “He never was the brightest candle in the bunch, was he? It was only a matter of time before he snuffed it. Besides, it’s no big loss. One less Weasley in the world is-”
“Ugh, that’s it, Malfoy!” In a flash, Ginny swooped down on him with a yell.
“What on earth.” whispered Hermione, in utter disbelief. All three of them stood still in shock for a moment, watching Ginny and Draco Malfoy engaging in what seemed to be a full-fledged wrestling match. It was a whole minute before the hospital staff realised what was happening. Harry and George, who’d been gaping at the scene, sprung into action.
In vain, they tried to pull Ginny off Draco, as she threw punches at everything in site, including Harry’s jaw. The staff seemed at quite a loss until someone had the sense to call security.
“Have you all forgotten that you’re wizards?” cried Hermione, reaching for her wand. However, the security staff had arrived before she could stupefy any unsuspecting victims. They quickly separated the fighting pair.
“She scratched my eyes out!” complained Draco, loudly.
“Well, it’s nothing you didn’t deserve,” retorted Ginny.
“Miss, please! This is a hospital! There are patients resting,” said an elderly Mediwitch, glaring reproachfully at her.
“I’m very sorry, Madame. But not all of it was her fault,” said Harry, rubbing his jaw.
The gathered crowd had slowly started to disperse. The Mediwitch turned to Harry, intending to look down her long nose at him too, but her face transformed when she saw who was speaking.
“Why, if it isn’t Harry Potter!”
“Uh, yeah. Well, my wife here, she was provoked.”
“Your wife?” her demeanour towards Ginny changed as well.
“Well, let the poor girl go!” she nodded to the wizard who was still holding Ginny’s arms, afraid she’d pounce on Malfoy again, if given a chance. He reluctantly let go, as Malfoy spluttered indignantly.
“Yes, yes, Mr. Malfoy. Let’s get that eye seen to. I must say, you’re being a tad melodramatic,” she said, as she waved at the group and left with a flourish of her robes. Malfoy glowered at everyone, but quietly followed her down the corridor.
“What in Merlin’s name was that, Ginny? Your brother’s in the hospital and you go around behaving like a child, picking fights with-!”
“I’m sorry, Hermione! But it really gets to me when Malfoy starts insulting my family. Ron’s not the only one who’s allowed to get angry, you know.”
“Well, I would have much rather seen you pull a Bat Bogey Hex, but I quite enjoyed watching you pummel him,” said George, chuckling.
But Hermione had already lost interest in the conversation.
“Healer Lash!” she exclaimed, spotting the healer come out of Ron’s room.
“Ah! Mrs. Weasley, there you are. You can rest easy now. Your husband’s condition is stable. We were able to stop the bleeding and currently have him on blood replenishing potions.”
“So, he’s going to be alright?” interjected Harry, as Hermione collapsed into one of the seats in relief.
“Yes, he’s going to be absolutely fine, Mr. Potter. You can go in to see him now, if you wish, Mrs. Weasley,” he added kindly.
“Thank you so much, Healer Lash,” she replied gratefully, and hurried into the private room that the healer had come out of. The other three, who pushed past Lash despite his protests, quickly followed her.
“One at a time, please,” he called.
“Yeah, not happening mate!” replied George, with a cheery wave.