Harry Potter, Return of the Dark Lord

Title: The Return Of Lord Voldemort [Hermione/Ron, Harry/Ginny]
Rating/Warnings: PG-13 for drunken uproar.
Summary: Harry and Ron have worked out quite the floor show.
A/N: Ellen laughed until she had an asthma attack.

Return of the Dark Lord

“Ron?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you love me?”

“Course I do.”

“How much?”

“More than is decent, I’ll tell you that much.”

“No…hic…seriously, how much?”

Ron peered at his rather smashed fiancée, trying to figure out what he could say that would allow him to return to drinking peacefully, rather than spark an international incident.

“More than Quidditch,” he finally settled on. It wasn’t technically a lie. Physically.

Hermione giggled, evidently pleased by this answer. She leaned heavily at one hand and stared up at Ron adoringly. She took another long pull on the straw sticking out of her girly pink cocktail, which Ron couldn’t name and didn’t recall her ordering.

“How many of those have you had?” he asked cautiously, setting down his stein of Spitting Dragon reluctantly.

“Can’t remember,” Hermione giggled some more, her gaze rather unfocused. Ron looked over her tilted head to seeing Harry, Fred, George, and Angelina smirking at him from the other side of the table. Ginny, leaning rather affectionately on Harry, seemed to share Hermione’s situation, although in a far less verbose manner.

“Would you fight someone?” Hermione asked, drawing Ron’s attention back to her.

“I do that all the time,” he answered without thinking.

“No, RON,” Hermione said impatiently, “would you fight someone for me? For my honor?”

Ron opened his mouth to comment that Hermione didn’t have much honor left after spending the night in his and Harry’s flat several times that week alone, but some of his intent must have showed on his face, because Harry shook his head ‘no’ violently.

“Yes?” he answered, sounding rather unsure. Harry nodded with relief, and Fred and George looked vaguely disappointed. “Yes, of course I would.”

“Mmm,” Hermione seemed to be thinking rather hard about this. “Would you fight Draco?”

“I’ve fought Draco over far less important things,” Ron replied dryly. This seemed to be the right answer, because Hermione gave a loud, romantic sigh. Ron dared hope for a moment, that she would be finished.

“Would you fight Viktor Krum?” she continued, gazing up at him dreamily.

“In a heartbeat,” Ron said sourly, looking enviously over at Harry, whose girlfriend was a happy, quiet drunk, who didn’t seem so intent on turning the depth of his affections into a pop quiz. Harry and the twins were now fighting to keep their snickers quiet.

“Shut up!” Angelina hissed at Fred, “I want to hear!”

“Would you fight Voldemort?” Hermione asked.

“Yes, Hermione,” Ron answered without really listening. Harry’s face drained of color. “Er, sorry, who was that last one again?”

“”You said you’d fight Voldemort for me,” Hermione announced. “Would you?”

“I…yes…but not…I mean…” Ron spluttered, looking towards the others for help.

That was a mistake.

“Go on, Hermione,” George egged her on, despite Harry and Ron’s frantic, silent pleas. “Ask him to prove it.”

“Prove it,” Hermione said to Ron, grinning stupidly.

“Oh, not again, Hermione,” Ron groaned. “Please don’t make us…”

“Prove it,” Hermione repeated stubbornly, setting her jaw. Ron reluctantly turned to Harry.

“No,” Harry said.

“C’mon, Harry,” Ron pleaded.

“NO.” Harry repeated more loudly. Ron looked back at Hermione with an apologetic gesture at Harry, but Hermione shook her head.

“Do it,” she slurred.

“Oh, go on,” Ginny said suddenly to Harry. She leaned over and held his face still so that she could kiss him with a modicum of success. “I think it’s cute.”

“All right,” Harry grumbled. “Fine, I’ll do it. Again.”

“Yay!” Ginny and Hermione both laughed, Hermione trying to clap her hands and missing.

“Yeah, yay!” Fred, George, and Angelina added. Harry glared at them as he hiked up his robes in one hand and climbed up onto the table, trying to be as dignified as possible.

The regulars at the Three Broomsticks, some of whom had seen this little performance before, began elbowing their friends and pointing at a none-too-pleased Harry, standing on a table.

“I am Lord Voldemort,” he said grumpily, sounding as if he were reading tonight’s special (Buffalo Bat Wings).

“No-o, Harry,” Hermione slurred in drunken exasperation, tugging on the bottom of his robe. “Do it RIGHT!”

Harry heaved a big sigh and cleared his throat.

“I AM LORD VOLDEMORT!” he bellowed in a mock-evil-villain voice. Several people in the bar, who had no idea what was going on, looked shocked and began whispering, but others hushed them and waited expectantly.

“THAT’S RIGHT, THE DARK LORD!” Harry continued, wiggling his eyebrows in a sinister manner. “MAKER OF THE DARK MARK, COMMANDER OF THE DEATH EATERS, AND DOER OF…OF…LOTS OF OTHER NASTY THINGS!”

People in the bar began to snicker. Hermione and Ginny gazed up in rapt adoration, while the twins and Angelina were already laughing heartily, knowing what was to come.

“THERE IS NO ONE WHO CAN STOP ME! HA HA HA!”

“I beg to differ!” Ron shouted, climbing up on the table himself in his outdoor cloak.

“AND WHO ARE YOU?” Harry asked, as though they were meeting for the first time.

“I’m Ronald Weasley!” Ron said with a flourish, whipping off his cloak and tossing it to Hermione with a wink and rakish smile. “I’ve come to put an end to your reign of terror, foul fiend!”

“BRING IT ON!”

Harry and Ron took a few well-practiced swings at each other, this early part of the routine having been worked down to a science. Harry let Ron land a punch, then clipped him with one of his own.

“YOU’RE WEAK AND PUNY!” Harry was starting to get into it. “SURRENDER NOW AND I MIGHT SPARE YOUR BOOKISH YET ATTRACTIVE GIRLFRIEND!”

“Never!” Ron cried.

Here, at about the point where he generally began to throw the fight to Ron, Harry decided to break from the script. He broke through Ron’s guard easily and nailed him in the eye, in what was sure to be a fantastic shiner later on.

“Hey, what are you doing?” Ron hissed so only Harry could hear. “I’m supposed to win!”

“The Dark Lord yields to no one!” Harry shot back, grinning evilly. Ron redoubled his attack and landed a few solid hits on Harry’s chest that were sure to leave bruises.

“Had enough yet?” Ron yelled, eyes bright with adrenaline.

“YOU FIGHT LIKE GILDEROY LOCKHART!”

Ron charged Harry with a roar and leapt on him, slamming them both down onto the table, sending tankards and girly pink cocktails in all directions. The fight degenerated into a no-holds-barred wrestling match, which paused for a few seconds when Harry pinned Ron to the table.

“READY TO GIVE UP NOW?” the ‘Dark Lord’ demanded, breathing heavily, blood trickling from his nose.

“I’ve got one trick left up my sleeve,” Ron called, smirking in a way that Harry knew he was going to hate. He reached up and seized Harry’s collar. “I’ll vanquish you with the one weapon you’ll never wield…LOVE!”

“You wouldn’t dare!” Harry whispered, eyes wide.

“I wouldn’t bet your Firebolt on that!” Ron grinned ferally. Harry tried to back-pedal frantically, but it was too late; Ron yanked his head down and kissed him, loudly and wetly.

After a few seconds worth of struggle, Harry gave a mighty push to Ron’s chest, and Ron let his robe go suddenly; he flew backwards and tumbled off the table with a painful CRUNCH.

In the ensuing cheering and stomping, a victorious Ron stood back up on the table and raised his arms over his head in the universal sign for victory.

“I’m not doing this again,” Harry said loudly to Fred, George, and Angelina, who were laughing so hard tears were streaming down their faces. He looked barely placated when Ginny kissed him again.

Ron collapsed back in his seat, winded and grinning cheerfully, as the cheering died down.

“A round of drinks for me and the Dark Lord!” he yelled to Madam Rosmerta. She bustled over to replace their spilled drinks.

“Ah boys!” she grinned at them. “You do that a few more times this week and I will pay you as my floor show!”

“Ha ha ha,” Harry replied mirthlessly, downing half of his Black Phoenix in one go, and holding the rest against his throbbing nose.

“How was that?” he asked Hermione, who looked rather irritated. “Oh for the…what’s wrong with you now?”

“You kissed Harry!” she sniffed accusingly.

“You know,” Ron said, setting his stein back down with an irritated CLUNK, “I’m rather sick of you drunk. Ebriate!”

Hermione blinked several times in the wake of the sobering charm, and glanced in confusion between Ron and Harry.

“What’ve I missed?” she asked, before turning an accusing glare on Ron. “Have you been fighting again, Ronald Weasley? You know how I hate that!”

“On second thought,” Ron grumbled, “I liked you better drunk. Inebriate!”

The silly smile returned to Hermione’s face and she leaned against Ron happily.

“What was I saying?” she asked.

“That you love me because I beat up Harry, who was playing Lord Voldemort again,” Ron told her, not feeling the least bit guiltily. He was sure he’d pay for it later.

“I don’t quite remember that…” Hermione looked vaguely confused. “I don’t suppose you might…”

“NO!” Harry and Ron shouted simultaneously.

“Some Dark Lord you are,” Fred sighed. “No fun at all…”