'Tis the season for MDPM crack!fic. I'm glad y'all liked that "Arthur and the iPad" story, because this one's along the same lines. For QLFC R10, I had to use the song "Uptown Funk" as my inspiration. Off we go!


1 January 2015

"Happy anniversary, Mummy!"

Hermione opened her eyes and blinked, yawning widely as her children's smiling, freckled faces came into focus, side by side as they peered at her over the end table. Hugo held a bouquet of flowers, while Rosie bore a tray fully of toast, tea, and marmalade. A wrapped gift in a small, flattish rectangular box sat on the tray as well.

"Good morning, you two," Hermione said, stretching luxuriously and reaching for her glasses. She slipped them on her nose and sat up on the bed, beaming. "What's all this, then?"

Rose and Hugo took the cue to clamber up on the bed ("Be careful, Hugo!" Rose cried, when his flying ankle nearly kicked over the teacup) beside her. At eight and a half, Rose already had all of Hermione's "best qualities," as Ron always was sure to say, and did a fairly comprehensive job of managing her younger brother—not to mention the rest of her cousins. Hugo, at seven, did everything he could to avoid being managed.

Neither of them, however, felt they were too big to get into Mum and Dad's bed. Hugo snuggled in directly next to Hermione, and stuck his tongue out at his sister. Rose, who was fussing over the tray, said loftily,

"Your face is going to freeze like that, Hugo."

"Will not!"

"Will—"

"Oi! No bickering on Mum and Dad's day," said Ron, appearing suddenly in the doorway in a flowered, ruffled apron that Molly had made for Hermione. "Or no party for the pair of you, and I'll arrange for Minerva to leave you both in the Hogwarts dungeons for the weekend. How does that sound?" He put his hands on his hips, making a mad face at them, and the kids giggled.

"No!" they chorused.

"We want to go to the party," Rose said.

"Minerva won't lock us up," Hugo said reasonably. "She's going to be at the party too."

"That's what you think," Ron told them. Hermione, laughing, pushed her wild, early morning hair back from her face and secured it with a clip.

"That's a good look for you," she said, nodding at the apron.

"Is it?" Ron asked, fluttering his hands over the ruffles and turning to stick out his rear end. "Do you think so?"

Rose and Hugo laughed again as Ron came over and kissed Hermione. It was long and slow, and Hermione smiled as they finally broke apart. It seemed that this was the unifying factor Rose and Hugo had needed.

"Eurgh!" Rose said, pulling a face.

"Get a room!" Hugo said, and then laughed maniacally. They tumbled off the bed together and scampered for the door.

"Where did you learn that?" Hermione demanded of her son, astonished.

He stopped at the door and fixed her with an isn't it obvious sort of look. "James, duh?" he said, and he disappeared.

"James," Hermione sighed, shaking her head.

"Duh," Ron agreed, picking up a piece of toast and settling back beside her against the headboard. He took a bite. "So. What does the newly minted Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement hope to do on this, the most auspicious celebration of her tenth wedding anniversary?"

Hermione put a bit of marmalade on her toast and smirked. "I just want to spend time with my three favorite people."

"Got a few more than that coming to the house tonight, have you heard?" Ron asked, and she butted her shoulder against him, learning against his side. "Going to open your gift?"

Hermione reached for the box. "Not heavy enough to be jewelry," she told him, affecting a severely disappointed sigh. She smiled and pulled off the ribbon first, then the lid. "Sunglasses?"

"Cool, right?" Ron asked, grinning.

"Er…" Hermione lifted out the pair of bright pink plastic sunglasses, frowning perplexedly. "Do they… do something?"

"Eh, not really. But hang onto them, you might need them later," Ron advised, and when she met his eyes, he winked at her. He leaned in and kissed her. "Your real present'll be at the party."

"You're not going to do anything embarrassing, are you?" Hermione asked.

"In front of all of our dearest friends and family?" Ron asked, scandalized. "Of course I am!"

Hermione groaned.

"Hey, Rose and Hugo have got to learn some time that I will go to any lengths for a laugh," Ron said. "It's serious business."

"Don't I know it," Hermione said, leaning back and kissing Ron's jaw. He kissed her back, and they snuggled together beneath the duvet.

"So. Ten years. Any regrets?" he asked, popping the last of his toast in his mouth.

Hermione sighed. "Yes." She glanced back at Ron, who was frowning. "I wish I'd picked better colors for the wedding. Bronze and gold? Absurd."

He snorted. "You're funny."

"I've been told," she said.

Suddenly, Ron moved, and so did she. Her hands reached for his apron strings while he lifted off her glasses and laid them on the plate full of toast, pushing aside the breakfast tray.

"Have you?" he teased her, and she nodded, laughing, as he coiled around her among the blankets and pillows, pressing a kiss to her neck.


The party was, in true Granger-Weasley household fashion, an uproarious affair. Butterbeer, firewhisky, and elf-made wine flowed freely, and both Ron and Hermione were so raucously feted, and frequently toasted, that by eleven o'clock, Hermione was more than slightly tipsy as her sisters-in-law surrounded her.

"The kids are all upstairs, sacked out on your bed in an enormous pile," said Ginny, over the thudding of music and loud conversation. She toppled onto the couch between Hermione and Fleur, who had been chatting with Angelina.

"So much for sleep schedules," Hermione giggled, sipping her drink. "Poor things…"

"Ze parties 'ere are a bit more exciting for zem zan ze Burrow, no?" Fleur laughed, draining her glass of wine.

"Hermione, is it really the—the wires that are making the music play?" Angelina asked, her attention drawn by the speakers in the corner of the room.

"Wireless internet, Angie, yeah," Hermione chuckled. "I had my team install it here when we were first working out the kinks a few years back. Fortunately, there are more Muggles on this street than wizards, or we'd never be able to use it. I'm surprised it's still working with so many people here now."

"That's so bloody cool," Ginny said, from her nearly-horizontal sitting position; her nose was nearly level with her knees, her eyes blinking lazily.

Hermione shrugged. "It's a bit superfluous, but the kids like the music… their new favorite is this one with all these horns and this amazing singer—something about a dragon. I can't remember the name, but it's so cute, they have a little dance and everything…"

Even as she said it, the volume of the peppy song that was playing dropped off. Then, Hermione realized that it was Ron who was controlling it. He held up a glass of champagne; similar glasses were being passed round the room on floating trays. Hermione accepted one as Ron caught her eye.

"Ten years ago," he began, and she could hear in his voice the same pleasant, mellow tipsiness she felt, "I married the greatest person in the world. She's brilliant, and clever, and kind, and—and loving, and… just brilliant."

There was laughter, and Hermione felt herself blush. A hand descended on her shoulder; Harry was above her, grinning as he jostled her.

"Hermione… here's to ten years of being married," Ron said, holding up his glass towards her. "I'd sign a contract for a hundred and ten more."

Tears sprang to Hermione's eyes, fueled by the drink. She smiled and mouthed, me too, as everyone toasted them and drank.

"And," Ron added, as there was a sudden rush of movement towards him; Bill, George, Harry, Angelina, and Ginny rushed to crowd around him. "I'm really sorry about this."

There came a sudden blast of trumpets from the wireless speakers, and a thudding bassline—do-doo-do, do-doo-do, do-do—and Rose and Hugo's favorite song began to play. Ron put on a pair of sunglasses—Hermione's sunglasses, she realized—as the rest of them copied him and a line of sunglass-wearing children scampered into the room.

Rose and Hugo flanked their father, each wearing brightly colored plastic sunglasses and stoic expressions, jerking their hips in time to the thudding music.

This hit, that ice cold,

Michelle Pfeiffer, that white gold—

The dancing began, and it was the entire group of them—Ron, Ginny, Harry, Bill, Angelina, George, and even Fleur and the little ones—following Rose and Hugo in a stunningly choreographed routine as they jerked, bounced, and twirled to the music in perfect synchronicity.

Hermione was hysterical with laughter.