"I'm just saying that it's only my first major game as First Seeker," Harry said, embarrassed. "I really think people should wait before producing celebratory t-shirts."
"You caught the Snitch every game you played while you were Reserve," Cho Chang pointed out. "And the Cannons have been doing really well this season. You'll be fine."
"Besides, the t-shirts are the least of your worries," Ron chimed in cheerfully, as he set the tea tray on the low table between the chairs. He straightened up, grinning, and before anyone could stop him he unbuckled his belt and dropped his jeans.
There was a chorus of shrieks from the girls, but for a moment Harry could only stare in stunned silence.
"Oh my God," he managed feebly.
"Later, love! It's better if you just call me darling in public."
Hermione made unsubtle gagging noises over the sound of Cho's stifled laughter.
"Weasley, I think I can safely say there are few things I want to see less than your semi-naked arse hovering above a tea service and plate of sandwiches at four o'clock in the afternoon," Draco said languidly, choosing that moment to wander in through the French windows from the garden. "For heaven's sake, put it away - are you trying to send my wife into premature labour?"
Ron turned to face him. He was wearing a bright orange thong; there was a small Chudley Cannons logo high up on one side, close to his hip bone, but the front of the garment - impressively displayed by his generous assets - was emblazoned with the words "Harry Potter - Seeker" and a tiny lightning bolt.
But instead of the horrified reaction the others had been waiting for, Draco merely looked resigned.
"You couldn't keep quiet about it, could you?"
"What's the point of advertising if you don't display it?" Ron pulled his jeans back up, much to Harry's relief.
Cho was staring at her husband in astonishment. "You knew about this?"
"Of course," he said nonchalantly. "It was my idea." Ron dug him in the side and he reluctantly amended the statement. "Our idea. It's not official merchandising, of course - "
"Yet," Ron said.
"Yet. It's a Weasley Wizard Wheezes effort for now. But we're in negotiations with the Cannons' management and I'm pretty sure they'll give us the go-ahead."
Harry was about to protest, when he thought about his fun-loving co-players and realised this was all too likely. The Cannons were the happy-go-lucky team of the League. They would probably see it all as a huge joke and want volunteer to model the goods.
"So it's just t-shirts and thongs?" Hermione asked, clearly torn between amusement and disapproval.
"And mugs and hats," Draco added.
"And bras for the girls," Ron put in, grinning slyly at her.
"Good heavens! I love you, Harry, but I'm not sure I want your name printed across my bust-line - "
"Oh no, the bras have the Beaters' names on them," Ron shot back. "On account of there being two bludgers, you know!
She threw a rolled up magazine at him; he ducked and it missed, knocking one of the china cups off the tea tray.
"Hey!" Harry said reproachfully and he rescued the cup, reaffixing its handle with a tap of his wand. "These were from Ron's mum …. Look, I don't want you two to think I'm being a killjoy, but I don't know that I like the idea of a load of anonymous blokes wandering around with my name plastered across their tackle."
"Oh, it's not just your name," Draco assured him. "We did a set for each player, including Gertie Flitter." Gertie was the new Reserve Seeker.
"Somehow I'm not reassured," Harry muttered.
"Besides, they won't all be anonymous blokes," Ron told him, with spurious sympathy. "Sirius asked for a thong with one of the Chasers on - I didn't like to ask him why."
Harry gave him an appalled look. "Thanks! Now I have to live with the image of my Godfather in an orange thong."
Ron's smile was one of the purest devilry.
"Well, he looked pretty good in it when he posed for the publicity photos."