Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, so there.

Rating: T for minor suggestive adult themes.

A/N: Last warning: entire Potter family bashing (not so much Harry though). Draws inspiration from the fic Snorcacks by OCDdegrassi. Not sure what it is, or whether it is funny or not. I don't seem to be capable of writing completely random stuff so I gave this a bit of a plot. Dedicated to all the people in the H/G YUCK thread! I may not agree with everything you say, but it doesn't matter one bit.

It is night time… Harry is in the living room, Ginny is just about to put her newest plan to get Harry's attention and love into action and their weird children are upstairs compiling stamp collections and listing the names of dead people they think will be appropriate for their newest yet-to-be-named brother…

Ginny rushes in.

The red-head screamed dramatically. 'Harry, Harry, grab the freaks – I mean, children – pack your bags! We have to get out of here!'

Harry Potter's only acknowledgement of his wife's words was to groan and continue his previous occupation; that is, banging his head against the wall in pain and frustration. He hated being married.

'Oh, no need to be like that,' Ginny said chirpily. 'I came to warn you. The bailiffs are coming again. Don't tell me you forgot to pay the taxes…'

Harry paused. Could it be true? 'I'll valiantly stay here and blindly sacrifice myself to save the day once more,' he offered hopefully.

'Don't be silly,' Ginny whined, tugging at his sleeve. 'You're coming with me. We're going to Latin America where we can live in peace, together, as one!'

Harry banged his head again a few more times, but decided to give it another try. 'Are you sure? None of you have been there except me! I know what it's like fighting bailiffs and government officials! It's not like you can just memorise a bunch of spells and be okay – I've been there, I know what it's like, and I've only survived due to luck. It's like – you just have to depend on yourself, and luck. And I've had help, it's not just been me…'

Harry digressed into his usual fighting the Dark Arts rant and Ginny slowly started undressing behind him. She sprayed perfume over herself to disguise the smell of her un-washed body and shaved off her monobrow (well, amazing Sue-ish beauty comes at a price). Then, she brushed the back of Harry's neck and whispered something dirty in his ear.

Harry jumped. 'Get off me you cow!' he screamed, running off, completely traumatised. 'I can't believe I married you, no wonder our children are freaks!' he called from the safety of the upper levels: Ginny was too fat to actually go up there after him.

'Damn,' Ginny muttered. Taking out her list of "Ways to Get Harry to Love Me" and checking off another idea.

'Hmm… what should I do next?' she muttered. 'Death threats or damsel in distress? Or perhaps I can rear another Monster in Harry's Chest? It worked somewhat last time…'

Upstairs, the debate is still carrying on. The yet-to-be-named child has just set fire to his cot, but no one appears to care.

'Voldemort! Voldemort is the perfect name!' Albus-Severus insisted heatedly. 'It commands respect, fear, worship! Think about it, when we're all at Hogwarts together, with Voldemort on our side we'll be able to steal people's pocket money and wigs!'

James the Second sighed. 'Don't be ridiculous. Yet-to-be-named wouldn't do that for us. And why would people have wigs – more importantly, why would we want them?'

But the light of world domination was in the senile Snape's eyes and James the Second's point was disregarded.

'You are such a Slytherin,' James the Second said disgustedly.

'Wait a second,' Lily the Second said slowly. 'How can yet-to-be-named go to Hogwarts with us? 'Cos we're,' she started counting on her fingers, 'older than 'im. We'll be gone, right?'

'You are so like Mum.' Why do I put up with all this?

'SHE'S NOT OUR MOTHER!'

'SHUT UP YET-TO-BE-NAMED!'

'Wait a second,' Lily the 2nd repeated. 'Yet-to-be-named knows words?'

'He's fifteen, Lily. And he already attends Hogwarts.'

'Wow… they grow up so fast…' Lily said. 'How come he don't have a name then?'

'Harry and Ginny were too busy screaming at each other to care when he was born and they still are now,' James the 2nd said smartly. 'I can't believe you didn't catch up on that.' Then again, you're stupid enough.

'THEY ARE NOT MY PARENTS!'

'SHUT UP!' Lily and James screamed.

'World domination, world domination, potions, world domination, potions, world domination, world domination, world domination…'

Harry's fort.

Bang. Head. Ouch. Bang. Head. Ouch.

'SHUT UP YET TO BE NAMED!'

Bang. Head. Ouch. Bang. Head. Ouch.

'Mwhahahaha! This will get Harry on my side for sure!'

Bang. Head. Ouch. Bang. Head. Ouch.

'World domination, potions, modelling career, world domination, potions…'

Bang. Head. Ouch. Bang. Head. Ouch.

Back to the debate. Yet-to-be-named has set fire to himself, or at least that's what his siblings will claim. It's now got down to three names: Voldemort, Florian-Colin-Rowena-Salazar-Helga-Godric-Percival -Wulfric-Brian-Creevey-Fortescue-Ravenclaw-Slyther in-Hufflepuff-Gryffindor-Dumbledore and Dobby. James is being difficult and saying "Matthew" should also be considered, yet his claim that Matthew is dead or even existed in the first place is dubious.

'I'm telling you Lily, not that you'll really understand or anything, I came downstairs and there he was. Or at least, his remains. I reckon either Mum or Hermione ate him.'

'How come I dint notice or anything?'

'You never notice anything,' James the Second said. Seeing his sister's confused expression, he tried again. 'You neva notice nothin'.'

'Oh, well, yeah. How did you know his name was Matthew though?'

'He looked like a Matthew.'

Yet-to-be-named cried in the corner. 'Why won't you let me name myself? At least I'll think of something normal…'

'SHUT UP!'

'YOU'RE INSANE, ALL OF YOU!' YTBN screamed and ran headlong into the wall.

Downstairs, Ginny's lair. The red-head is bending over a cauldron full of bubbling liquid.

'Bubble, bubble, boil and trouble, treble, tremble shabadoo!' Ginny cackled wickedly. The cake full of love potion was finished.

'Harrryyyyyy daarrrrrhhhlllinnggg,' she said sweetly. 'I've got a nice little present for you.'

'Oh, no, I am NOT falling for that – or you – again! I'm already traumatised after- after, what was his name again? Hey Ginny did we ever actually name that child?' Harry's voice questioned from upstairs.

'What are you talking about?' Ginny said, her voice still honeyed. 'His name's Alice.'

'But Alice Longbottom isn't dead!' Harry pointed out.

'Yeah, last time we checked.'

Harry shuddered. 'I need to get out of here,' he muttered. 'We're getting a divorce!'

'But what about that Unbreakable Vow we made never to get a divorce?'

'Do you actually know how to make an Unbreakable Vow?'

Pause. Ginny stared at the cake, wondering if it would be okay if she just ate a little piece of it. 'You said you did!'

'Well, I lied. No way was I pledging something like that. You made me marry you anyway!'

'No I didn't! You were practically begging for it Harry.'

'What?! You said if I didn't you'd tell everyone how small my-' but Harry's next words were not heard by Ginny, who had, after finishing off the whole cake, started on the table. She resurfaced and looked around for her next meal, when her eyes fell on a mirror. 'Oh, Ginny,' she giggled. 'Don't you look nice today?'

She'd forgotten about the love potion in the cake.

'Have you lost weight? You have, haven't you? You sexy little devil…"

Upstairs.

Harry froze, frightened more than ever. What had she just said? Oh, never mind. Just get out of here while you can.

'I'm going to Hogwarts,' he said to no one in particular, knowing they didn't care.

'Take me with you!' Alice screamed desperately.

'Um…' Harry looked at his son. 'I'd rather not, actually.'

And he walked out.

Married life? You could keep it. He'd only stayed for the free meals.

The Three Broomsticks.

Hello, caller. You've reached the National Assassin Agency. Press 1 if you would like to kill someone, Press 2 if you would like to fake your own death, Press 3 if-

Harry pressed "1", not waiting to know what would happen if someone pressed "3".

Press 1 if this person is your boss, Press 2 if this person is annoying (Harry's finger lingered over this one), Press 3 if it is your wife (his finger almost touched it, but then he heard the next option and stopped), Press 4 if your wife is named Ginevra Mary-Sue Weasley and you are Harry James Potter.

He pressed 4, surprised that they had an option reserved just for him.

Oh, hello! Hello! Welcome! What can we do for you – oh, stupid question, but there you go!

Harry had first been faced by a robot, and now he would have to talk to a hyper-active assassin, it seemed. I didn't know you were psychic.

Oh, we're not psychic! Not at all! We just knew you'd call up sooner or later. Who wouldn't, married to her?

That is true, Harry said, smiling at his good fortune.

When would you like us to top her off, then? the man down the phone said cheerfully.

As soon as possible, please. How much does it cost?

No need to worry about cost. This job is completely on the house. Seriously, I can't understand why no one else has done it yet.

Believe me, I've tried.

We'll call when we're done. Get an alibi, will you?

Before Harry could answer, the phone line went dead. He wondered exactly how he could get an alibi for the whole night. But just then, he spotted Rosmerta nearby and came up with a Very Good Plan.

'Oi! Rosmerta!' he called to the barmaid, who came over, hoping for another customer. 'I'm the boy-who-lived, you know,' Harry said, using his customary chat-up line.

Instantly, Rosmerta started swooning and drooling over him. He was still amazed at how well this worked. Gulping down half of his fire whisky, he stood up and moved toward the stairs. Rosmerta followed like a lost puppy.

Taking another – this time strategic – swig of fire whisky, Harry somehow managed to spill most of the remaining liquid on Rosmerta's robes. 'Oh, no,' he cooed dramatically. 'Your robes are all soaked. You'll have to take them off.'

Ginny forgotten, they left the parlour.