Open RP: Hogwarts Family Values, with the Sorting Hat

[ugly-old-hat.livejournal.com]

Thanks to Hogwarts magic and a little help from the infamous house-elf gossip network, the Hat kept abreast of the entertaining chaotic general goings-on throughout its kingdom school. When it heard that groundskeeper Dean Winchester had put a bun in student Stephanie Brown's oven, it wasn't the whole faculty-student taboo that put a corresponding bee in the Hat's bonnet. (A hat in a bonnet? Oooh, avant-garde!) No, it was the total lack of regard for family values! It was one thing for faculty to engage in hanky-panky, or even Jenga, with students. That was fine. Everyone did it. But impregnation without benefit of ceremony? What would Dr. Phil say? What would Dr. Laura say?

(The Hat didn't use its wizarding wireless to listen to WART. It preferred Muggle talk radio. We're not talking NPR.)

So the Hat had taken matters into its own capable straps. Champion of family values that it was, it decided that if Dean wasn't going to make an honest woman out of Steph, then the Hat would make an honest woman out of Dean! Or, no, wait. An honest ... something. Anyway. They were going to get married, whether they liked it or not! And their offspring would be born into legal wedlock, thank you very much! Legal and binding under the Ministry of Magic's standards!

The unsuspecting bride had been summoned to the Great Hall under the pretext of a detention to serve. The equally unsuspecting groom had been summoned to the Great Hall under the pretext of groundskeeping duties to perform. And two mighty wedding planners had been recruited to make this a day they'd always remember and cherish ... well, at least, a day they'd always remember ...



Kelly Kapoor was busy with some Very Important business. The Sorting Hat had mentioned that this celebration was, in fact, a wedding. Her expert services had been enlisted for said wedding. And if you knew Kelly, you knew that she thought weddings were just about the best thing ever.

With one exception. Babies. Or, to be more eloquent, baaaaaabies.

Thus, the whole 'wedding' thing was really just a formality. They were here to celebrate the cuteness of children, and the great hall was decorated accordingly. The tables were covered in pink and blue tabledressings, and stuffed animals of every imaginable sort served as centerpieces. As discussed with her brain trust of one, the party favors were wrapped in ruffled-cloth diapers, held together with 'totally adorable' ducky pins.

Kelly was currently busy overseeing the house elves in their efforts to carry a giant wedding cake to the teacher's dinner table, currently commandeered for buffet-style purposes. Instead of a bride and groom, the cake was topped with a wax visage of a smiling infant. Even the house elves had after various thinly-veiled threats from the decoratorzilla gotten into the spirit. They were walking around in giant diapers, wearing pink or blue bonnet & bootie sets, depending on said elf's gender.

All in all, it was pretty much the most awesome decorating job ever.

As for Kelly's aforementioned brain trust of one, the fabulous Hedwig Robinson -- well, Hedwig had never actually planned a wedding before. She needed the practice, since she would be helping with the wedding of her darling adopted son Michael Scott. Already high-strung, she felt that much more pressure because this wedding could be viewed as practically a rehearsal for Michael's. This was Hedwig's baptism by fire! She stalked around the hall (in white leather high-heeled boots, no less) fretting over the proper incantations. Since the Hat had specified this was a surprise wedding, she wanted to make sure her wandwork was up to par when it came to whipping the carefully chosen wedding garb onto the bride and groom. One wrong move and all that gorgeous sparkly polyester-blend fabric would be history! So she had commandeered a couple of diapered elves, who were being rapidly unswaddled and swaddled again with sharp flicks of Hedwig's wand. Muttered German obscenities peppered Hedwig's incantations.


When the clock struck the appointed hour, all was ready. The Hat hovered in gleeful anticipation, waiting for the victims happy couple to appear!

Comments

[mischief-george.livejournal.com]

George hadn't looked up through any of that. Just staring at the floor, expressionless, almost as if politely waiting for Stephanie to finish so he could shut the door. When she'd stopped talking, he simply stood there.

She wasn't pregnant.

She wasn't with Dean.

She was with him.

A rush of relief so deep that it actually made his breath catch rushed through George. Lifting one hand to rub his face, he didn't even notice that his fingers were trembling.

Then, without a word, he reached out to pull Stephanie to him. Bending down he kissed her with a desperate kind of abandon. Uncaring of the goop, he tangled his fingers in her hair and bent her back, slightly, with the force of his embrace.

He hadn't lost her. Oh, thank Merlin's hairy arse. Laughing in relief, shaking his head, he pulled back to look at her. Pushing back her hair from her face with one hand, George smiled down at her.

"I love you, you insane woman. Even if you fake pregnancies and get married off to random blokes." He kissed her again, this time soft and sweet. "I love you, Stephanie. So don't scare me like that again, yeah? If you're going to be faking being preggers, let me know. I'll make a bouncing baby prank line or...something." He traced one finger across her cheek. "But I thought I lost you."

[busty-robin.livejournal.com]

She wasn't dumped!

She was not dumped!

Hey, did you hear about the part where she wasn't dumped? She kissed back with the vigor of someone who thought they'd lost the most important person in their life, only to be granted a last minute reprieve. She was flying.

Steph hung onto George, knees a little weak, hair more than a little goopy, and not caring on either count because she wasn't dumped and he friggin' loved her.

She reached for the hand on her cheek, gripping it tightly. "I'm right here. You've got me." She wanted to say more. It wasn't that she didn't feel That Way about George - it was there, bubbling under the surface, waiting to come out- but it was too soon. She'd only just relearned how to have a relationship. How to trust that another person wanted her for her, and not for what she could provide them - an alibi, a solider, a replacement, etc. But to be in love, to take that next step, was to trust someone with everything, and Stephanie just wasn't prepared to do that.

Yet.

She wasn't there, but she would be. A simple enough thing to realize, but an infinitely more complicated idea to voice aloud. Especially coupled with that bit of tipsiness, which was coming on in full force, piggybacking on the overwhelming sense of relief that was coursing through Steph’s veins. Gripping the back of George's neck with her free hand, Steph informed him of the following: "You’re all goopy. But I still like you. A lot." Then, leaning in close, because this next bit was Important: :"You’re my favorite."

[mischief-george.livejournal.com]

It was as if he'd been taken to the gallows and then, just as the noose tightened, the pardon had been given. George was not one to bouts of emo, but the idea that everything he'd felt with Stephanie had been one colossal joke had been a pretty dark place. Now, though, with her smiling up at him, kissing him back, well...

Pretty bloody incredible.

Laughing at her, smoothing back her hair and resting his free hand on the back of her head, George shook his head. "You're goopy, too, you know." And...wait. "Are you drunk?" Grinning, he tipped his forehead forward, resting it on hers. "Why Stephanie Brown, have you been hitting the Firewhisky?" he teased.

Well, his girlfriend was apparently not entirely sober and covered in green goop - a fair amount of which was covering him as well, now. Only one thing to do. Scooping Stephanie up easily (hey, he might not be the most built guy in the world, but all that Quidditch did pay off), one arm under her knees and the other holding her shoulders, George headed off down the corridor. A short time later and they were inside the deserted Prefect's bathroom. No, George was not now nor would he ever be a Prefect. Didn't mean he couldn't break in.

The water was warm and filled with bubbles. Completely clothed, still holding onto Steph, he grinned wickedly down at her. "Plug your nose." And then he jumped in.

What? They were goopy!

[busty-robin.livejournal.com]

Scoff! "I am not! I was proving a Point, about not being - you know. That's not the same as drinking, so I can't be drunk. You have to drink to be drunk. So there." She nodded, fairly certain that George couldn't argue with such logic.

And then, they were off. Field trip! She hooked her arms around George's neck, trusting that he wouldn't drop her. She was his Girlfriend, after all!

Steph grinned and plugged up. She took a deep breath through the mouth, and post-plummeting, stayed underwater for a good minute, trying to shake out the goop. The results were mixed. Resurfacing, she looked down at her dress, then up at George. She repeated the process several times, before coming to the following conclusion: "I look dumb." Pout!

[mischief-george.livejournal.com]

For his part, George hadn't been nearly so goopafied as Steph, so after a vigorous scrubbing, he had the worst of it off. He'd been barefoot in his room and hadn't bothered to put shoes on for this little trek, so was mercifully just wearing a pair of cargo shorts and a t-shirt proclaiming his love of milk. Muggle clothing was funny.

Floating on his back, he tried not to laugh at Stephanie's efforts. He failed. Splashing over to her, he looked down at the bedraggled mess she was in the horribly ugly gown and the green slime still clinging to her.

"Nah," he said, tracing his thumb across her lower lip. "I think you look lovely."

Oh, young love.

"Here, let me help you." Squirting out a healthy portion of shampoo into his hand from one of the nearby pumps, George leaned against the wall of the tub, gently tugging Stephanie towards him so her back was to his front. Then, slowly, he began to wash her hair. Working the lather into each strand, rubbing circles against her scalp with his fingers, George did his best to wash it clean.

Completely absorbed in the task, quite liking the way the strands of hair felt between his fingers, George's lip was caught between his teeth as he concentrated. It was an intensely girly moment for George Weasley, but he couldn't be bothered to care. Of course, if Steph told anyone about this, he'd deny it.

[busty-robin.livejournal.com]

"You have to say that," she pointed out, matter-of-factly. "Or I'll poke you. I have deadly aim."

Aw! George thought she was pretty (lovely was British talk for pretty, she figured out) even all goopified. Steph grinned. "I think you're pretty too." Ha-ha! Let him do the translating, for once.

"Weasley, what are you-" Oh. She closed her eyes, quite enjoying the feeling, and idly wondered if George noticed that she had an unusually lumpy head. Steph reached up, squeezing his hand, and getting nice fistful of goopy suds.

Which she then flung at her boyfriend's face. What? He left himself wide open!

[mischief-george.livejournal.com]

Chuckling, George tossed his hair out of his face in an exaggerated manner. "My mum always did say I got the looks in the family." A joke, of course. Everyone knew that Fred was the prettiest.

George did, in fact, notice the lumps in her skull. Of course, he'd also never given a girl a shampoo before - or anyone else, for that matter - so at the time of the sneak suds attack, he was wondering if perhaps Muggles just had bumpy heads or if girls did or if he was odd for not...

Blinking, face full of soap, George looked down at Steph. And blew out some bubbles. And then, of course, retaliated.

"Oi! You'll live to regret that, you goopy princess." Grinning, he ducked around Stephanie, swimming back a bit before going under the water. Beneath the surface of the bath he quite easily took out Stephanie's legs and pulled her under with him.

What? It was time for her rinse!

[busty-robin.livejournal.com]

Eep! Sneak attack! "This is war," she called out. Of course, the whole underwater thing made that message bubbly and incoherent.

Grinning, Steph pulled out some not-so-subtle bat!skills, and swum around George, pinning his arms behind his back in a painless -but very useful- hold. Surfacing, she rested her head on her boyfriend's soaking shoulder. "You forget, Weasley. I am ninja!" She emphasized her point with a hiccup.

Glacing around, Steph couldn't help but wonder why the room was all spin-y. Maybe George knew? "Honey, are the walls moving?"

[mischief-george.livejournal.com]

Choking - as laughing underwater didn't do much for the old airways - George twisted his head around to look at her. "That, my dear, would be the drinks you did not drink coming back to haunt you."

Easing around, he wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed her forehead. "Let's get you dried off and into bed, Brown. Best to sleep it off."

[busty-robin.livejournal.com]

Steph sighed. "I drank them, but I didn't drink them." Really, if that didn't clear things up, she didn't know what would.

"I like that idea." Mmm. Bed. Bed sounded good. He was a smart one, George.

Except, wait a sec. Steph's face fell. "That hat," she gravely informed him "moved all of my stuff to Dean's house. Dean's smelly house. He doesn't even know what guest towels are!"

[mischief-george.livejournal.com]

Oh. That would be a problem. Um... "You can have my bed," he told her, getting them both out of the tub and heaving Steph back up into his arms. "I'll kick Fred out or something. Or sleep on the floor. We'll figure it all out in the morning, yeah?"

Grabbing some towels from the corner, George headed back to his room. Kicking shut the door, he set Steph down gently and wrapped her in one of the huge, fluffy towels that the prefects got. "Merlin," he chuckled, as he then set about drying himself off, "no wonder Percy was so chuffed about getting Prefect. These things are smashing. Makes me almost regret my life of mayhem and general mischief." Kidding, of course. No towel was worth becoming Percy!

"Um," blushing a brilliant red, George rifled through his drawers and pulled out some dry clothes, "go ahead and nick anything of mine you want. I'm just going to go change." Yeah, a girl rifling through his drawers? New experience. Made him glad his mum had always insisted on keeping his room tidy. Ducking out the doors, George headed to the bathroom to get out of his sopping wet clothes, leaving a trail of wet footprints behind him.

[busty-robin.livejournal.com]

Steph, bobbing right along, quirked an eyebrow. "That's just dumb. You're not sleeping on the floor. You've probably got prank prototypes stashed all over the place, and you'll roll over them in your sleep, and you'll turn purple. I'd still like you, but you'd be purple." Which, unlike eggplant, was a very lame color. "We can share a bed." Beat. "I don't have cooties!"

Just in case he was concerned!

She pulled the towel a little closer, and rooting through George's drawers, tried not to snoop. She pulled out a pair of shorts, and one of many oversized sweaters, with a 'W' stitched on it. She changed quickly, laying the wet clothes on the back of a desk chair.

She fidgeted from side to side, waiting for George to come back.

[mischief-george.livejournal.com]

There was one word, and one word only, that could adequately summarize George's reaction to that suggestion.

Eep.

When he came back in the room, George paused in the doorway, swallowing hard at the sight of her and trying very much to not think about how vaguely sexy it was that she was wearing his clothes and how hot she looked, all wet hair and long legs and smooth skin. Taking a deep breath, he rambled out the speech he'd been working on all the way from the bathroom.

"No," he started without preamble, "I think that you should take the bed and I'll sleep on the floor. It's all right, I think I've got a sleeping bag around here." He paused and looked around the room, cluttered with ingredients for pranks and prototypes and random Quidditch gear. "Um, somewhere. Anyway, it's fine, you should sleep in the bed." His voice had broken only once or twice during that, so George felt quite proud. Of course his ears were burning and he was blushing the same colour as his hair, but overall this was definitely a Weasley win.

"Okay?"

[busty-robin.livejournal.com]

Yay! George was back! Steph ambled over to him, snaked her arms around his waist, and listened politely to his speech.

Which was a very confusing speech, as it turned out. Who would pick a sleeping bag over a bed?

"...Okay?" Steph chewed her lip, considering the question. She was cold, George was warm, and she didn't want to him to turn purple. There was only one logical answer. "Not okay," she said, with a smile. "You're being silly. We'd just be sleeping together." Pause. Eek! "Not like that," she said, flailing. "Next to each other. Just sleeping!"

[mischief-george.livejournal.com]

It turned out George could facepalm with the best of them. "Er, yes, I know," he tried again, hands very politely on Steph's shoulders and cheeks burning at the subject matter. "I wouldn't... Um, yes. But I'm a guy, Steph. And you're..."

Letting out a nervous little chuckle - Merlin, what was it about this girl that could make brimming-with-confidence George Weasley into a babbling first-year? - he shrugged ruefully, scratching the back of his head with one hand. "Well, you're gorgeous. And drunk. And I've never had a girl with me in bed, even just to sleep. So maybe it's better, you see, if you just..." He waved one hand toward the bed, "Um, sleep alone?"

[busty-robin.livejournal.com]

Cue even more confusion. "I know you're a guy. I'd still date you if you were a girl, though!" Face scrunch. "I told you I like girls too, right?" Eh, it probably came up in conversation!

"You wouldn't do anything. I could kick you if you did," she offered.

[mischief-george.livejournal.com]

"Um..." Help! Crash and burn imminent! Glancing around the room wildly as if looking for an exit, George (who had been quite sure he couldn't blush harder and was currently being proven very wrong on that front) laughed nervously. "That's...quite smashing of you, really. But I don't want to...to take advantage." Rubbing the back of his head compulsively, suddenly very interested in studying the floor, George shrugged. "It's just...you should have the bed."

Oh please, by all the saints, just let this conversation be over! There was no nice way to say 'You're sexy as hell and I'm afraid I'll not be able to control my blood flow if you're sleeping next to me'. And talk of his girlfriend being into girls as well? Not helping.

[busty-robin.livejournal.com]

Hm. "It's not taking advantage. I'm taking advantage. But okay," she relented. "If you think I've got cooties, I'll sleep alone. After I got married, and almost dumped, and gooped on the head, and dunked underwater." If Steph had her Keen Intellect about her, she might have realized why a red-blooded young man didn't want to share a bed with his affectionate but effectively chaste girlfriend.

But as said intelligent was slightly less keen at the moment, Steph chalked the whole thing up to cooites. She disappointedly backed away from George, and walked to the bed. Pulling back the covers, she was about to hop in, when she had A Thought. "Is this bed pranked? Am I about to be re-gooped?"

Hey, Steph trained with the World’s Greatest Detective! She knew what was up.

[mischief-george.livejournal.com]

Stifling back a groan, George rubbed his eyes. Guilt trip. Not fair. Finally, expelling a huge breath, he muttered, "Fine."

Oh, he was going to regret this.

Following her, he laughed quietly. "Why would I prank my own bed? Fred's, maybe..." Hmm, good point. Were they trying out any bed-related pranks at the moment? He didn't think so. "You're fine." Ninety percent sure.

Crawling into bed, he stayed on top of the covers, holding them up for Steph so that they wouldn't be on the same layer. "Come on, princess," he said, stifling back a yawn. "Hop in. I promise you goop-free dreams."

[busty-robin.livejournal.com]

Ha ha! Steph was the Winner!

Smiling, she climbed into bed, and nestled against George's chest, resting her head underneath the crook if his neck.

"See how I don't have any cooties? I'm talented like that. Also, you smell nice." She had the soul of a poet, Stephanie.

[mischief-george.livejournal.com]

Sighing out a laugh, George grumbled, "Yes, yes. Cootie free. No bloody clue what a cootie is, but I'm sure you lack all of them."

Kissing the top of her head, George summoned over one of Fred's blankets and covered himself up with it. One arm was slung over Stephanie's waist, holding her gently. "Good night, princess," he told her with a smile. "And if you have to throw up in the middle of the night, try and aim for the floor." Hey, he could sweet-talk with the best of them.

[busty-robin.livejournal.com]

"I'll try, handsome." Steph smiled against his skin. This alone made today a pretty good day. Even if she was married to smelly Dean.

Out within minutes, Stephanie was soon snoring lightly into her boyfriend's ear. Very sexy stuff.

[mischief-george.livejournal.com]

For a long time, George just lay there, watching her sleep. Grinning at her snoring, combing his fingers idly through her hair, and generally just residing on cloud nine somewhere. That this was actually happening was probably one of the best sodding things ever in his life.

Eventually he dosed off. Completely content and only a little bit awkward, still, at the whole 'girl in his bed' thing, George slept well, dreams of bubble bathes (not the dirty kind!) and goop-covered bombs landing on Dean filling his mind.

The morning sunlight didn't stir him. Arms still around Stephanie, a blissful smile curling up his lips, George continued to sleep.

[busty-robin.livejournal.com]

Steph woke up with a yawn, and smiled at George like waking up next to him was the most natural thing in the world.

Aaaand then she realized that she was, well, waking up next to George! Had they...? No. No, she wouldn't forget that. Steph went slackjaw, mouth forming a small 'o', while the events of the previous evening flashed through her mind.

"...I got married. And you gooped me. And I got married. And I coerced you into bed!" She looked at George earnestly. "Sorry about the coercing!"

[mischief-george.livejournal.com]

"Mmmrph." George was quite eloquent in the morning. Brow creasing, he didn't open his eyes, just patted Steph's shoulder sleepily and yawned. "'S okay. You're nice to sleep beside."

Pulling her closer, he snuggled into her. That is, he totally did some manly equivalent of cuddling. "And you're only kind of married," he continued, words slurring nicely with that edge of sleep. "Now hush, woman. Too early for talking."