A/N: In which there is banter, more banter, and nothing but banter. All mistakes are mine because I am too lazy to edit this properly. Also, French, lolz.
Harry arrives back at the family tent to find everyone eating breakfast and Rita Skeeter’s morning Prophet article hanging, framed, upon the nearest cloth wall.
“Redecorated, have we?” he asks.
Ginny flicks her wand from her spot in front of the tent stove, tilting the kettle and pouring out three cups of tea. “It’s the latest thing,” she says. “We’re calling it, ‘Rustic Rubbish.’”
“The world was a better place when that woman was just a beetle in a jar,” Hermione mutters, spooning out a helping of eggs onto Rosie’s plate. “Honestly, the things she comes up with.”
“I think it’s brilliant,” Harry’s eldest son, James, declares, sitting up in his seat, his mouth half-full with toast and marmalade. “We’re famous!”
“You’re barely even mentioned!” Ginny argues.
James grins cheekily. “You never mention us at all in your articles, Mum.”
Ginny rolls her eyes. “Quiet, you. Otherwise I’m abandoning you in London again.”
“I want to be abandoned in London!” Hugo shouts.
“Me too, me too!” Lily cries.
Read More
