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Happy Birthday, apisa_b! I hope you're having a great day.

Here’s some birthday crack!fic. HGSS (if you squint), Harry/Ginny, 1000 words.


The Robbers

Once upon a time, in a country far, far away, lived a King and his two daughters. I believe they were actually sons, but one does want to challenge archaic gender roles every now and then. (Please don’t let this prevent you from seeing them as sons should you want to read a bit of slash, I’m all for pleasing the reader after all).

The first daughter went to university, where she started partying around. She had a sweetheart back home, a certain scarred character we won’t dwell upon that much as it’s already been done elsewhere.

The second daughter stayed at home with their father. She was not very happy there: not only did she have to behave like the perfect daughter towards her ailing father, but she did not reap any of the rewards that usually come with the position: no wild student parties for her, and, of course, no hopes of inheriting in the future since she was only the second-born.

Now that the stage is set and everything ripe for a little bit of wild sex UST conflict literary developments, let show you the letter with which it all began.


Hermione old girl,

Am having a blast of a time over here at uni, the guys don’t know what hit them. Hope you’re doing well back at home base. I say, could you do me a favour and go in my room? I forgot a little pack of flour in the drawer of my nightstand, would you be a dear and sent it to me? It’s for strictly scientific purposes mind you (so don’t start asking those awkward questions), and don’t you pinch any of it, it’s rather expensive too.

Oh, and while you’re at it, here’s a letter for the old man, pass it on, will you?

xxxx Ginny

The letter to her father was of more steady a nature, its prose more sober, and went on at length about she was very sorry indeed for what she had done and anyway she wasn’t at all responsible for that peculiar young man ending with a severed eggplant in the rectum and her lipstick on his nipples (its being a gross exaggeration on the part of the relevant Dozent anyway) and could he please, pretty please raise her allowance by a few grand? The words forgiveness, pardon and filial devotion were as recurrent as the theme song leitmotiv in a cheesy soap opera.

This is where I would like to impart a few pearls of wisdom upon the audience and let them into some fundamental insights into the psychology of the individual. Hermione was not contented with her lot. In fact, she was rather jealous of having been neglected so long by their father in favour of Ginny, the heir to the estate. So you must really try to comprehend why she stole the second letter and never showed it to their father. Quite on the contrary, she wrote another letter herself under the pseudonym of Pansy Parkinson where she reported in great detail the (real and imagined) eggplant incident. For good measure, she added that Ginny had stolen the vegetable and that she was suspected of several other such examples of theft, treachery, and ultimately lack of honour.

Their father was broken-hearted, but what can fathers do. He publicly disinherited his eldest daughter, and instated Hermione instead.

Ginny was devastated when she heard her allowance had been cut off altogether. She gathered her merry band of partygoers around her and together they swore an oath of loyalty to each other and to their great cause: to live freely, to defend freedom to the death, and to procure themselves with enough white powder to live happily ever after, not that any of them expected that to be such a very long time.

Alas for them, robbing people all over the countryside to procure the means to live freely isn’t that sustainable a pastime, and soon enough all the Aurors coppers of the region were on their back, and not doggy-style either. There was only one option, and Ginny knew it. They had to seek refuge in her father’s castle.

It caused a great ruckus, but this is a fic and not a play, so the reader will have to be content with not getting to watch it all in Technicolor™ with a Hollywood scenario. (Sorry)

Suffice it to say that Hermione was none too pleased with the invasion. She grumbled at great length about its not being in the rules, and then went off to commit suicide by snake, which, as the reader well knows, consists in getting bitten by a big reptile while carrying antivenin in one’s pockets, faking one’s death, curing oneself and then taking off to shag one’s true love in distant, sunnier shores.

Harry (don’t you remember? Ginny’s childhood sweetheart) would have none of that.

“Stop it!” he said, marching against Ginny and her band of wild renegates.

“Or what?” was her only answer.

“I’m… I’m protecting your father!”

“I would love to make an honest man out of you, thus quenching your qualms of conscience,” she answered, “but, in a moment of foolishness, I swore loyalty to my band of robbers. We’re all for freedom, see, and that includes free love! So I really can’t stop them from raping you within an inch of your life… I’m hope you’ll understand…”

She was interrupted by troops of wild outlaws running all over each other to get a little touch of Harry in the night, and possibly more, should circumstances allow and the narrative imperative dictate to add in a little smut (it doesn’t, sorry to disappoint).

Upon hearing the noise, Ginny’s father emerged from his chambers.

“You?” he said in the tones of a father experiencing the return of the prodigal daughter after a long absence. “I thought you had OD’ed a while back! Well, no matter. Do you have any of the stuff left?”

“Father!” was Ginny’s only response as she dumbly handed back the remains of her stash.

“Well, why did you think I lost my nose? Now look here, young lady. In the name of the Riddles, I, Voldemort, urge you to redeem our name by giving yourself in to the benevolent hands of the law.”

“And so I shall, Father,” Ginny answered, “but only if everyone here sing the birthday song for apisa_b!”

So they did, and I’m singing along :)