The World Needs Hero Offspring
Harry's brilliant green eyes snapped open the moment the morning sun cleared the horizon. "Plenty of time for some hearty exercise before the Weasleys pick me up," he thought as he grabbed his glasses off the nightstand and sprang energetically out of bed. Putting his glasses on – which only made his eyes more clear and insightful – Harry glanced at his clock. "Ah, 5:46. What an invigorating time of day," he mused as he started his calisthenics.
Eight hundred crunches, five hundred push-ups and a brisk twenty-mile run later, Harry's muscular form, sweat accentuating his inky black hair and tanned skin, strode into the Dursleys' kitchen. Before Harry could utter a word in his smooth baritone, however, his relatives snatched up their plates and rushed out of the room. Harry's manly brow furrowed. They'd been doing that all summer. Shrugging his brawny shoulders, Harry turned to the refrigerator and took out an apple and some raw meat, and sat at the table, carefully shifting aside the disaster left by Dudley with one glance from his sparkling, magical eyes.
"It's so great that the Ministry finally realized that they couldn't pin down the most powerful wizard to ever live with silly Underage Magic rules," Harry thought as his perfectly-straight teeth ripped into the bloody beef. "Silly waste of time, that was. As if I'd use my power for anything other than good."
Harry quickly licked the beef remnants from his slender, graceful fingers, seized the rosy-cheeked apple from the table and bound up the stairs three at a time. Shower time!
Harry loved shower time. He loved to clean his bulging muscles and sinewy appendages. He loved to see the soapy rivulets run down the valleys of his perfect definitions, carrying away the pungent sweat from his work-out. And how he loved to perform isometric exercises to the sound of the pounding water.
"If only there were a girl pure and worthy enough for this form," Harry pondered, soaping his masculine ears. "The world needs hero offspring."
Harry rinsed thoroughly, making sure his black-as-night hair contained no unseemly bubbles, and stepped out of the shower. Sighing, he dried his buttocks with the coarse, hole-ridden towel he had inherited from Dudley. All the saving the world hadn't found him a pure woman. Bloody saving the world. Of course, Harry reasoned, there really was not point in complaining now. He had drawn the hero's lot. And what a hero he was! Harry flexed his biceps in the steamy mirror, grinning. It was amazing what a little dedication could accomplish.
Back in his –
"Will I have to save the world in this story?"
"Will I have to save the world in this story?"
"I don't think so. Um, why do you ask?"
"Well, I don't really wanna have to save the world again."
"I'm sorry. You are Harry Potter, aren't you? Saving the world is what you do. What's up with the whining? What do you have against saving the world?"
"Well, nothing...really. Except, I...uh, have to do it all the bloody time. And I just don't wanna anymore."
"I don't believe this. You're the classic hero archetype. You have to save the world. Who else is going to do it?"
"Uh...Ron. Maybe? Hermione? Isn't it Dumbledore's turn yet? Come on!"
"This story isn't about bloody Ron, or Hermione, or Dumbledore! It's about you, damn it! And I can't believe Harry freaking Potter is whining about saving the world."
"But I don't wanna-"
"Shhhh. Calm down. There's no saving the world in this story. Get up off the floor! Please!"
"Uh...okay. I was just...concerned. You know, usually a lengthy description of how manly I've become precedes my saving the world. And sword fighting. I don't wanna have to sword fight anymore."
"There will be no saving the world. And look at the bright side. Since you're all bulked up, that means you only have to deal with Ginny's adoration. If I'd made you lithe and wiry, you would have had to get past Draco's appalling self-absorption and gone in for some undoubtedly violent shagging."
"Okay. Honestly. Bloody Harry Potter: Coward. Whinging coward. Just go pack your damn trunk. There won't be any fucking saving the fucking world."]
Back in his room, Harry haphazardly threw everything into his trunk, reflecting on how he needed a good woman. Heroes did not pack trunks. Standing, he hoisted the trunk easily over his beefy shoulder and – balancing the trunk easily with one hand and hefting Hedwig and her cage in the other – lightly lept out the second-storey window and landed softly on his generously proportioned feet.
"I'll just do some sword work while I wait for the Weasleys," Harry decided. But he was only six times through his routine when Charlie Weasley flew into the yard on his broomstick, panting heavily.
"Bloody invisibility charm. So tiring," Charlie gasped, collapsing on the grass that so matched Harry's glittering eyes. "H...hiya, Harry."
"Hi, Charlie," Harry responded, standing over Charlie and blocking out the sun, sword in hand. "Don't worry about the invisibility charm on the way back. I've got it covered."
Charlie nodded, still gasping. Harry quickly turned away and, with a powerful swipe of his right little finger, put his sword cleanly away and attached his trunk and Hedwig's cage to the back of his broom.
"Hey, Harry, maybe you should put your trunk on my broom, if you're going to be handling the invisibility charm," Charlie said from his horizontal position.
"Really, it's no trouble, Charlie," Harry's voice like butter responded, as he checked his trunk to make sure he had all his possessions.
"Oh, I insist. You are the guest, after all," Charlie grinned, sitting up to look at Harry.
Harry grinned back, and easily transferred the locking mechanism and his belongings to Charlie's broom. "Ready when you are!"
Charlie slowly rose off the lawn, and climbed back on his broom. Harry did the same, and muttering a few words, took off into the sky, followed by Charlie and Hedwig.
Several hours later – Charlie had adamantly refused Harry's offer to speed up their brooms – Harry and Charlie touched down on Weasley property. Harry looked around to make certain Charlie was okay, and caught sight of what surely was a vision.
A gorgeous nymph with hair like the hottest fire and skin like the most pristine parchment came running out of the Weasley house.
"Uh, Char-" Harry began, but couldn't finish, despite his impressive baritone. The breath rushed from his body like the riptide of the ocean, and he was overcome.
The apparition came to a stop a few steps from him, and Harry stared into her rich brown eyes, suddenly realizing that this perfect creature was Ginny Weasley.
"Uh, hi, Ginny," Harry gasped, the ground moving under him.
"Hi, Harry." Her voice, a mellifluous soprano, reminded him of the canaries that sang outside his window every morning at the Dursleys every sweet summer.
Another endless moment passed –
["Uh...excuse me? I have another question."
"There is no bloody saving the world in this story!"
"I'm only a bit worried about that, actually."
"Well, what is it, already?"
"Will I have to, um, have...relations with Ginny Weasley?"
"You know. Relations. Naked relations."
"I don't wanna have naked relations with her."
"Oh, for fuck's sake. You don't want to bloody save the world, and you don't want to have sex with Ginny Weasley! You're a fifteen-year-old boy! You should want to fuck everyone!"
"Don't yell at me!"
"What, pray tell, do you want to do?"
"Oooo! Play Quidditch with Ron!"
"There's no Quidditch in this story. There isn't going to be any Quidditch in this story. I am writing a romance, so there damn well will be naked relations with somebody."
"Well, then could it be Blaise? Blaise is really hot. I WANNA HAVE NAKED RELATIONS WITH BLAISE!"
"Shut up. This is an H/G story. There's no H/B archive. If there are any naked relations to be had, they will be with Ginny Weasley, and that's that."]
Another endless moment passed, and Harry couldn't take his eyes off the delicate cheekbones and rosebud mouth in front of him. He swayed on his feet, in a manly sort of way.
"Harry, where do you want this trunk, mate? Ron's room?" Charlie was smirking and had hold of one end of Harry's trunk.
Harry slowly blinked his sparkling, broccoli-green eyes, and reluctantly turned away from Ginny. "Uh, yeah, that'd be great, Charlie." Harry forced his brawny feet to carry him across the yard to Charlie and the trunk, but he couldn't help looking back every few steps to further implant his vision of Ginny Weasley in an feminine yellow dress on his brain.
It didn't even occur to Harry that he was perfectly capable of lifting his trunk by himself, and he grasped the vacant end and walked with Charlie into the Weasley house. His heart beat a strange tattoo beneath his pecs, as he followed Charlie up the stairs, and bumped his way toward Ron's room.
"Harry! Hey, mate!" Ron hastily hid his reading material under his pillow as Harry and Charlie squeezed through the door with Harry's trunk.
"Ron. Put your pants back on," Charlie was clearly exasperated. "You know we're all tired of this."
"Sorry. I thought I had another hour or so." Ron's blush clashed inappropriately with his pumpkin-orange hair.
Charlie shook his head, and exited the room, leaving Harry's unfocused gaze to land unfortunately on Ron's bare lower half.
"Uh, Harry? Are you okay?" Ron hastily covered his nether regions with a T-shirt.
"Oh, sure, Ron. All right?" Harry blinked several time with effort, and, eyes widening, hurriedly shifted his gaze to Ron's tomato-red face. "I was just daydreaming about Ginny."
"Ginny? My little sister Ginny?"
"Yeah, Ron. She's beautiful." Harry sighed. "I want to marry her."
["No way. I am not marrying Ginny Weasley. I'm a hero. I can do whatever I want."
"Excuse me, but you said you didn't want to be a hero. Do you remember telling me that you wanted Ron to save the world?"
"Well, I thought he might do it with his pants on!"
"You should have specified. And there is no saving the world in this bloody story!"
"Yeah, only marriage to horrible girls with ugly red hair that sigh all the time."
"It's a bloody H/G archive."
"There's no Blaise in this story!"
"But I want Blaise!"
"Does anyone else know how fucking whiny you are? It's a bloody crime. I can't believe the wizarding world really depends on you."
"But I wanna-"
"I don't give a bloody shite. Shut up, and get ready to marry Ginny Weasley, you whiny little cunt."]
"Yeah, Ron. She's beautiful." Harry sighed. "I want to marry her."
Ron started, and bent to retrieve his pants from the floor. "No way!"
"No, honestly, Ron. Ginny's gorgeous. What happened to her?" Harry sat his powerful frame on the top of his trunk and sighed wistfully, and Ron clumsily managed the buttons on his trousers.
"She just grew up, I guess," Ron said slowly, clearly irritated with the stubborn buttons. "I dunno, she looks the same to me."
"No way, Ron. She didn't look anything like that last year," Harry sighed wistfully, imagining Ginny's lily-white skin and refined earlobes. "I just want to scoop her up and carry her off on my broom and pick her wildflowers." Harry unconsciously flexed his biceps in anticipation.
"Uh, Harry, are you okay?" Ron asked, finally focusing his full attention on Harry, pleased that he managed to fully button his trousers despite his stubbornly engorged love-rod. "Did Charlie dump you off your broom or something?"
"No, Ron, I swear!" Harry glared at Ron. "I want to spend hours running my hands through the fire that is her hair, and spend days holding her sweet hand that is so much like the finest bone china, and spend years making her happy by giving her babies and not making her work or think!"
"Uh, sure, Harry. I don't care." Ron shrugged. "As soon as Hermione gets here, I'm just going to spend the rest of the day shagging anyway," he leered, stroking his roast beef.
"Uh, Ron, I don't think-"
But Ron had raced from the room, slamming the door against the wall violently on the way out. Harry wandered dreamily to the window, and saw that Hermione and her parents had arrived. Now was the time, he thought determinedly. Time to woo Ginny.
Harry strode purposefully down the stairs of the Weasley abode, his heart beating rapidly, but not anywhere near the pulse of a small rodent. He was a hero, after all. Indomitably, he approached the girl of his dreams of the last eight minutes, only to see her gazing at Ron and Hermione kissing in...was that disgust?
Harry gently put his hand on her perfect arm, feeling the delicate ulna beneath her silky skin. "I'd never to that to you, Ginny," he promised sincerely. "You're too pure."
"Oh, Harry, that's so sweet." Harry felt his stomach flip just the tiniest bit beneath his rocky abdomen as he watched a blush creep up from Ginny's neckline in fascination. Now was the time!
Harry dropped to one knee, and his commanding baritone echoed around the entryway as he asked, "Ginny, sweetheart, will you marry me?"
To his masculine delight, Ginny started to weep, her tears making her dainty skin translucent. "Oh, Harry. Of course I will."
Harry's heart sang, and he uncompromisingly took the hand of his unsullied Ginny. "I have to ask your father, but I'm sure he'll say yes. No one could possibly treat you better than I will, Ginny. You'll never have to work, and you'll never have to clean or cook. You can stay home and we'll have lots of babies." Harry grinned at the thought of populating the world with his hero babies.
"Oh, Harry, that sounds perfect. It's just what I've always dreamed," Ginny sighed.
Harry leaned forward and pressed a firm kiss to her tender cheek, listening joyfully to the bells of her laughter as he did so. "Go find a white dress, Ginny. We're going to get married! And I'm not waiting for anything!" Turning, Harry marched from the room to find Ginny's father, his heroic constitution making him eager to proceed.
A tumultuous cyclone of activity later, Harry found himself well-pleased. Mr. Weasley had, of course, approved the marriage, welcoming Harry to the family with a firm handshake and a snifter of brandy. Harry had received the handshake readily, but had declined the brandy. What if the world needed saving later?
And precisely twenty-six minutes later, his goddess, his revelation, his vision – the only girl he had found in his fifteen long years who was untainted – entered the room in a mountain of white. Harry slapped the cleric on the back, and turned to greet his blushing bride, who had crossed the room to him with adorably dainty steps of her precious feet.
"I love you, Virginia Suzanne," Harry said, smiling. But at just that instant, Blaise Zabini slammed into the Weasleys' living room, leather everywhere, wearing a dangerous smile.
"Actually, bloke, I think Ginny would rather be with me-"
"Shit, I thought I was going to be able to finish with without more whining. What do you want, you little fucker?"
"I want Blaise!"
"Too fucking bad."’
"But I'm Harry Potter! I get whatever I want! I'm putting my foot down! I'll tell Dumbledore!"
"I don't really give a fuck. Shut up."
"Please. You should just be glad Voldemort isn't in this story. You'd have to save the world!"
"But...who do I get? I don't even get ugly Ginny Weasley anymore! I want someone!"
"Fine. If you'll shut up and let me write ten more lines, I'll give you Ron."
"Ron's ugly, too. That orange hair everywhere. I'm not having naked relations with someone with orange hair down there! You can't expect that from me! I'm a hero!"
"You're a whiny fucker. What if I throw in Hermione?"
"Well...she doesn't have ugly orange hair. I suppose..."
"Good, that's it. Now shut up."
"No, shut up."]
"Actually, bloke, I think Ginny would rather be with me." With that, Blaise ripped the white froth off Ginny to reveal a somewhat startling ensemble of skimpy vinyl.
["But, I didn't know there was vinyl. I want Ginny!"
"Shut up, you fucker. If you speak again, this story is going to be about saving the world."]
And Ginny and Blaise rode off in the bright morning sunshine to have grand drunken sex, while Ron and Hermione consoled Harry the only way they knew how - successive blow jobs. And Harry was pleased to know that his powerful hero's seed would be spread, even if it was to trampy Ron and Hermione.
Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were somewhat disappointed, but they consoled themselves with the fact that, at the rate Ron and Hermione - and the newly included Harry - were going, they would have grandbabies soon enough.
***the whiny, irritating end***