Bomb
January, 2002
Ron and Hermione were getting busy on Harry and Ginny's bed.
Ginny had a dungbomb.
"This is a horrible dilemma," she said, weighing the dungbomb with one hand and staring at the bedroom door.
"If you set that off in the bedroom, love, I won't be cleaning it up," Harry said from his armchair, smirking over the top of his book.
She stuck out her tongue. "Party pooper."
"Actually, Gin, I think that would be you." He gestured at the dungbomb and grinned a crooked grin.
"Mmm." She tossed the dungbomb lightly in her hand and made to throw it at Harry, who dived behind the chair and used his book for cover.
"Watch where you're aiming that, will you?" Harry said with fake grumpiness as he emerged from behind the chair, hair ruffled. Ginny laughed and blew him a kiss, and then cringed at the sighs coming from the bedroom.
"Oh, Ron. You do ask for it, don't you?" she asked the door rhetorically.
"You're going to do it, aren't you?"
Ginny sighed. "You'd understand if you grew up with six brothers."
Harry stared. "Gin, remember when we were at Ron and Hermione's for dinner last week…"
"Oh, don't you turn this around on us," Ginny scolded. "We were only kissing."
"That's because Crookshanks wouldn't leave us the hell alone."
"No, it's because we have a sense of common decency. Unlike these two." Ginny tossed the dungbomb lightly in the air. "I would hate to hit Hermione, though. It's a risky operation."
"Ginevra," Harry said seriously, reaching over to keep Ginny's hand still. "If you set this off, you will be smelly and complainey in a very short amount of time. You run the risk of having your brother and best friend furious with you, and Arnold besides."
Ginny looked startled as she remembered her Pygmy Puff, who had taken to rolling around in the bedroom and was probably doing so as they spoke. "Oh, the dung would never come out of his fur…"
"That's right," Harry said soberly, nodding. "Plus it's just generally not a good idea to set off a dungbomb in our own house." He kissed her forehead and grinned. "Let's at least catch them fooling around in their own house before we set off any dungbombs."
Ginny laughed and stood on her tiptoes to kiss Harry properly. "Right you are. Right wonder what I was thinking."
"I know. You're an odd duck." Harry bent down to kiss her again.
"I'm an odd duck?" she mumbled through their kiss without breaking away. "I think – you're the one – who is looking up – Auror business – after dinner – for fun."
"Mm," Harry agreed or objected as he wrapped his arms around her. Ginny brought her hands up to Harry's hair and –
The sound of the explosion was followed by a yell and a squeal from the bedroom. Some mad scrambling later, a half-clothed and completely dishevelled couple burst into the living room. "What in the name of Merlin's pants was that?" Ron asked in a high pitched voice, Hermione wide-eyed behind him.
Harry and Ginny stood in the middle of the living room, both of them absolutely covered in dung. After surveying the living room and noting the brown, drippy quality of the walls and ceiling, and finally after assessing each other, the couple burst into hysterical tears, and took a rather long time to calm themselves.
"All right," Harry said to Ginny, after much scrubbing and many showers. "Next time, I'll let you target Ron."
Ginny hummed happily and snuggled into Harry's chest. "I knew you'd come around."