The Proverbial Clear Sky
Summary: Thoroughly wasted, Ron decides that Harry's receding hairline is the perfect opportunity to add some detail to the infamous scar. Too bad alcohol makes aiming difficult. [Future fic]
Rated T: for the usage of alcohol.
Their drink of choice was Ogre's Breath; a concoction that got you drunk fast and gave you breath so nauseating you wouldn't have to worry about waking up the next morning with someone who was most definitely not-your-wife. They were Aurors Potter and Weasley, a fearsome duo that at the age of thirty five had put away more dark wizards then in the history of the rest of their entire department.
After a long day at work slaying evil creatures such as paperwork and avoiding wife aggro howlers, both Harry and Ron decided that they both needed a drink, despite it only being Monday. Unfortunately, between being such busy Aurors and such thoroughly wiped Quidditch dads, both Harry and Ron hadn't been drinking in a while... which led to their current situation.
"I'm telling you Harry," Ron said, his freckles camouflaged from his flush, "they'reee all scared of us, cuz they aren't coming close to us... We're... we're fearsome! Like lions. Rawr."
'They', of course, were the other visitors of the Ole Dragon Pub. The impressive amount of stench the two were emitting due to their drinks had created a significant distance between them and just about everyone else in the establishment.
"But, I thought- I thought we were Gryffindors. You know, like caw caw," Harry replied as he tried to peel himself of the bar counter he had been... resting his head on.
"No, those are Ravenclaws," Ron said, swerving a little on his bar stool as he tried to face Harry a bit better.
"Pfft, no! Like- like anyone would be scared of those Librarians!"
Here, Harry's eyes started to water.
"But what if they're scared because I'm the boy-who-lived?" Harry wailed.
"But only death eaters would be scared because of that!" Ron replied before saying, "I think... I think you're on to something Harry!"
Here, Ron stumbled off his barstool and stood to face the largest pack of customers in the bar.
"YOU! YES, YOU!" Ron shouted, his finger circling around to keep up with where he thought the crowd was. "YOU'RE ALL DARK WIZARDS!"
This caused several raised eyebrows. Eyebrows that Ron promptly singed off, thinking the furry little bastards were planning something nefarious.
It came as no surprise that the two were thrown out of a bar shortly after that.
Drunk to the point they couldn't remember how to apparate, Harry and Ron began to stumble in the direction they hoped one of them lived. The duo, trekking through what appeared to be downtown London in Auror robes, quickly gained a myriad of strange stares.
Harry, the emotional drunk, quietly declared, "They're staring at my scar, Ron!"
"Use... use your bangs to cover it then," Ron replied after pondering what to do for a few moments.
This apparently was the wrong thing to say.
"I don't HAVE bangs anymore, Ron!" Harry sobbed, "My hairline's disappearing! I'm having an iden- an identididy... an identity crisis! How can I be Harry... if I don't have any hair?"
Ron frowned, appearing particularly stumped by Harry's question.
"We can ask 'Mione later. She... she knows things," Ron confided, as if sharing a terribly important secret.
"Do you think she knows how to stop the staring?"
Ron didn't reply for a few minutes.
"What if they are staring cuz they don't know... where it comes from?" Ron said, nodding.
"But... it comes from Voldemort! Everyone knows that!" Harry said.
"But Voldemort... doesn't make lightning, Harry!" Ron replied. "Everyone knows where the curse came from! But where did the lightning bolt come from?"
Whilst this question wouldn't have made sense to anyone who was sober, Harry gasped as if having an epiphany.
"Do you know where the lightning bolt came from, Ron?" Harry asked sounding hopeful.
"From a cloud!" Ron answered, "If you add a cloud no one will stare, cuz the mystery will be solved!"
"Can you fix it?"
"Of course! What are friends for?"
Forgetting they were in muggle London, Ron pulled his wand out and pointed it at Harry's face. Muttering a spell, he began to try and create a cloud shaped cut on Harry's face... Naturally, this went wrong for several reasons. Firstly, Harry began to scream like a baby. Secondly, everyone nearby turned to look. Thirdly, this was muggle London... and Ron was using magic.
Harry passed out from a mixture of pain and too much alcohol.
He awoke two hours later, to the sound of jail cell being opened. Still drunk, he struggled to identify the two blurry shapes at the cell's entrance.
"HARRY JAMES POTTER!"
Oh, one of them was Ginny.
"WHAT DID YOU DO TO YOUR FACE? YOU BETTER HOPE THAT THE MEDIWIZARDS WILL BE ABLE TO FIX THIS! MY GOD, IT LOOKS LIKE YOU'VE BEEN MAULED BY A BEAR! WHAT WERE YOU AND RON DOING?"
"They... they can't fix what's been fixed, Gin!" Harry said, trying to pacify his wife. "There's a cloud now, so no one will stare."
"No one will stare? NO ONE WILL STARE? BOTH OF YOUR EYEBROWS ARE MISSING! SO IS PART OF YOUR RIGHT NOSTRIL!"
Oh good, so long as it wasn't the left nostril. He had always liked that one better.
"WHAT KIND OF ROLE MODEL ARE YOU BEING FOR OUR KIDS? ALBUS HAS TO TAKE TIME OUT OF HIS SUMMER VACATION TO HELP HIS FATHER WALK OUT OF A JAIL CELL!"
As it turns out, Albus was the other blur.
Harry shifted to look at his son, mulling over what Ginny just said.
"Albus... I'm... I'm such a bad father," Harry said as he began to cry, surprising his son. "I mean, what kind of dad names... names their kid Albus Severus! I bet you get teased all the time at school. Don't turn to the dark side, son! Daddy will make them stop. No need to learn dark spells!"
"Mum... Has dad... lost it?" Albus asked.
Ginny sighed, "No dear. Harry gets a bit... emotional when he drinks."
Harry continued to cry.
"Come on, let's get him to the St. Mungo's to fix his face," Ginny said.
"But you can't- you can't have lightning bolts without clouds! My forehead... will be like a clear sky! And then no one will know the mystery is solved!" Harry cried. "When I stand under lights my sky will even have a sun because of the reflectionnn—!"
Ginny thoroughly irritated at this point, removed her wand from her pocket and pointed it at Harry.
"STUPEFY!" She cried, and Harry's whines ceased immediately.
"Albus, you get the arms. I'll the legs," Ginny instructed.
"Why don't you just conjure a stretcher, mum?" Albus asked.
"I don't think your dad deserves a dignified exit right about now," Ginny replied.
Though Harry could hardly remember a thing from his and Ron's adventure, he decided to get a toupee in an attempt to prevent people from staring at his scar. After a Wingardium Leviosa gone wrong and much embarrassment, Harry decided to trade toupees for baseball caps. Though he now had the strangest tan lines known to man, Harry felt it was well worth the sacrifice.
Although, this would not be the last of Ron and Harry's drunken escapades. The sheer amount of paperwork the two had generated from breaking the Statute of Secrecy caused the two to drink on several more occasions. Thankfully, their tolerance to alcohol began to increase. The entirety of the Ministry of Magic was grateful for the small miracle, as the two had created a record for the most obliviates needed at a sole location: a startling 1,392 from the incident Ron would later dub 'Storm searching'. Needless to say, the origin of the name was one of the few things that Hermione still couldn't figure out.
I hope you guys enjoyed reading this! I have had this idea for a long time now and figured it was time to write it. It's now two days away from being a full year since I've last written a Harry Potter humour/parody fic and thought I should post another:).
I hope this fic brightens your day! I know my humour can be a tad strange, but here's hoping you like it:D. Also, I hope my grammar/spelling is good. This is self edited and was written during the wee hours of the morning... Inspiration strikes me at strange times it seems .
Thanks for reading!