Head Pains

Disclaimer: Not owned by me.

Summary: Harry's got a headache. The kids aren't helping. Short little plot bunny I had with a headache. xD

The pain was scorching, even by his standards. He's not a stranger to pain but this was torture.

Perhaps I'm being a bit overdramatic, he thought. After all, he's had splitting headaches before—many, thanks to Voldemort—but it's been so long since he's had this bad of a pain in his noggin.

It was as if someone was using the Cruciatus Curse directly on his brain.

Only his luck could give him the world's worst migraine on Ginny and Lily's day out with Andromeda and they were also out of medicine—Wizarding potions and muggle pain relievers alike—since his terrors called children broke the medicine cabinet and all its contents on the night before.

"Watch the kids, Harry," Ginny had said. "Just for a few hours, it'll be fine." 'Fine', his left foot. Not only did he have a headache, but his sons and godson were determined to make it worse.

He was past the stage of pleading and moved straight into 'snap-your-head-off-if-you-bother-me' stage.

It didn't help the boys were deliberately annoying him. Harry wasn't really the strict parent in the house but damn if he didn't wish he was. Maybe they'd listen to him then.

He doubted it, though.

A loud boom! sounded from upstairs. Harry groaned and trudged reluctantly up the steps.

He went straight for James' room where, undoubtedly, the source of the noise had been. His left hand clutched his head while he opened the bedroom door with his right.

He did not like the sight that he was faced with.

According to the black powder covering the length of the room top to bottom and all the boys head to toe, George has most definitely been sneaking Weasley's Wizard Wheezes products to the boys while neither he nor Ginny were looking, Harry surmised.

He crossed his arms across his chest and glowered, hoping it had an effect on them. His godson, Teddy, the oldest, changed his hair to a sheepish light pink matching the blush crawling over his features despite being covered in all black. James gulped and Al looked ready to crawl under the bed.

Good, he thought. They should be scared. He might be no Ginny, but Harry did have a few stern bones in his body. He hoped.

With a wave of his wand, the powder disappeared.

…then returned a second later with what seemed to be double the original amount.

George, Harry thought with scorn. His brother-in-law has much to answer for.

Harry's eyes flashed as another wave of pain hit him. "I do not have the patience for this." He locked eyes with all three boys before ordering, "Don't move. I'm going to Floo-call your uncle to get rid of this mess and you three will not touch anything."

Not waiting for an answer, Harry spun on his heel and made his way down to their fireplace with determined strides. If George knows what was good for him, he'll answer promptly, Harry thought, throwing the green Floo Powder into the fire.

"Harry? What's up?"

"George Weasley, you son of a—"

"Hey, now! That's my mother you're about to insult. What's got you in such a mood?"

Harry narrowed his eyes, though he doubted George could tell on his end where he only saw Harry's head in the fire. "You sold them your products? My twelve year old godson? Not to mention my six and five year olds, too?"

George at least had the decency to look sheepish. "Er… about that, Harry, I kind of gave them a few joke products."

"Oh, did you?" The sarcasm was practically oozing from his tone. "I hadn't noticed!"

"Calm down, mate, okay? Ang is sleeping and—"

"I DON'T CARE!" he roared. "I have a bloody headache, James's room is covered in black dust, and Ginny isn't home to fix it!"

George groaned. "Ooh, the powder? Please tell me you didn't try and clean it with magic?"

"OF COURSE I DID!"

George held his hands out towards the fire, trying to placate him. "Quiet down! Oi, you sure scream loud for a bloke in pain…"

Harry's nostrils flared. "HOW DO I GET RID OF IT?"

"There's a cleaning password on it: you say the word or phrase and it instantly cleans itself."

"WHAT'S THE—"

"I'm getting there!" he snapped. "It's 'sock tie'—"

"Thank you, was that so hard—did you just say sock tie?"

"Erm, yeah. Don't ask."

"I don't want to know."


One insanely worded password later, the boys and the room were all squeaky clean and powder-free—much to the boys' disappointment; they had quite enjoyed the black dust.

Harry's headache was growing by the time everything was fixed up. He could barely see—the light pained his eyes and dark spots clouded his vision with every move he made.

"I'm going to lie down," he told the three, who looked afraid that he might eat them whole. "Don't bother me, don't break anything, stay inside the house, and play nice and quietly, and we won't mention this to Mum, alright?"

The boys' apprehension morphed into a set of matching grins and they agreed, going as far as to shake hands on it to prove to Harry they'd behave.

Harry set a Monitoring Charm on them, like one would put on a baby, just in case.

And not even ten minutes and a loud crash later, he was glad he thought ahead.

When was Ginny coming home again?