Chapter Text
It had started with academic curiosity on Hermione’s part; Ron might have been a little quick on the follow-through, though.
“Harry, get back here!” Hermione cried from somewhere behind him.
Loud whoops and catcalls echoed in the halls after Harry Potter, who was sprinting as fast as he could while shucking his clothes.
“Put your bloody clothes back on, you nutter!” Ron called over his laughter.
“Clothes are a tool of the oppressor!” Harry shouted over his shoulder, hopping awkwardly as he fought to pull his trousers over a shoe.
“What the bloody hell does that even mean?”
“Who on earth is the oppressor in this situation?”
“I dunno, Snape probably,” Harry replied, down to his pants and his left sock and back on the run.
He was finally gaining some ground on his friends – thanks for the training, Dudley – when he was suddenly side-tackled. Sprawling on the ground, Harry looked up over his shoulders with blown pupils at a grinning Ginny, sat astride his back and pinning him down.
“Well-executed, Gin,” he said begrudgingly, holding out a hand for a fist-bump, which she gleefully returned before petting his head, which calmed down the still-squirming teen.
The younger girl turned to the other two as they finally caught up, Ron huffing and puffing, Hermione bent over with her hands on her knees. Ron threw the robe he’d picked up along the way at the nearly naked catboy’s head, which earned him a yowl of protest.
“Well, I hope you’re happy with yourselves,” Ginny said sternly, channelling Mrs. Weasley. “Harry’s going to be so embarrassed when he’s back in his right mind.”
Hermione’s face bloomed red and she looked away guiltily, while Ron merely looked a bit sheepish. “I mean, now we know to keep him away from catnip?”
Hermione reached over and slapped his arm.