Alright, this is my dirty little Harry Potter fic. I haven't written
in a while so it's damn dodgy. Deal. Don't read this if you take HP really
seriously. Come on people it's a BOOK. So read my little story and give me
a review. Or ten. Unless you're gonna be mean. But I guess you'll post a
flame anyway so...just do whatever the hell you want. As long as it involves
my story. Btw, I do not own Harry Potter. I PWN it. Oh yeah....
-Margaret Elizabeth
"Psst! Harry!" Ron whispered, flicking a small folded square of paper. It hit Harry straight in the eye.
"Ta," muttered Harry rubbing his temporarily blinded eye. Taking particular care to hide the note from Professor McGonagall, he unfolded the paper. Reading the message Harry groaned and rolled his eyes.
What did the leper say to the prostitute?
Keep the tip!
He glanced back over at Ron who was grinning like a madman, and, despite himself, let out a chuckle.
Professor McGonagall floated over and loomed ominously in front of him.
"Mr. Potter, how good of you to write me a letter," she said, without a hint of sarcasm. Stony faced, she held her hand out expectantly. Harry looked at Ron, who was shaking violently from silent laughter. He felt the blood rush to his face as he dropped the note into his teacher's hand.
McGonagall allowed a small smirk of triumph to play on the edges of her thin lips. She unfolded the paper. The smile vanished.
She turned abruptly and walked briskly to her desk. Harry winced as he saw his teacher whip out a pink detention slip. McGonagall mustered all her dignity (and ignored the bright pink flush in her cheeks) as she handed it to Harry, who was trying to disappear into his chair. At this point, Ron was practically rolling on the floor in stitches.
"Quite the poet, aren't we, Mr. Weasly?" McGonagall said dryly. She handed him a pink slip as well. "If only you put the same effort into transfiguration."
Harry gave Ron a smile of evil glee and turned around in his chair to see what Hermione thought of the affair. Her fuzzy head was buried deep in her book, but Harry could tell from her vacant blood-shot eyes that she was not studying. He did not disturb her, in case she decided to bite him.
The bell clattered suddenly, and as the class cheerfully shuffled out of the room for another afternoon of wholesome activity, Harry and Ron remained seated.
"Boys, I am extremely disappointed and, well, disgusted with you." Harry noticed that the crimson blush had not faded from her cheeks. She prattled on about morals and ethics for several minutes, but Harry tuned out. He was thinking instead about the strangely vivid dream he had last night. And when he woke up...blood everywhere and that odd feeling of ecstatic excitement. The adrenaline pumping and pulsing through his veins. The power. The power to take life...
"So I want you to join me after dinner tomorrow night to discuss your punishment further. Do you understand?"
"Hard not to after that speech," Ron muttered under his breath. As the boys left the classroom, Harry shook his head.
"'smatter, Harry? Cho not givin' any?" Ron joked, winking like a ham.
"At least I have a girlfriend, unlike some sex-deprived immature little boys in this room," Harry stared at his friend.
"At least I'M not still a virgin," retorted Ron.
"Dude, your sister doesn't count," laughed Harry. Ron slammed him hard against a nearest wall.
"You eat with that mouth, Harry?" Ron said menacingly, narrowing his eyes.
"Calm down," Harry squealed weakly. "It's...just a joke."
Ron stared hard into his eyes for a moment. He released his hold on Harry. They continued to walk back to their dorm in silence. Hermione was already in the common room staring blankly at her feet. "Hey Her-moyne," Harry teased obnoxiously. Her eyes slowly shifted from her feet to his face. They were watery and red, in deep contrast to the pallor of her face. "What." She croaked. It wasn't a question. Ron rolled his eyes and stormed up the stairs to his room. "Hey, is something wrong?" Harry pulled up a chair. "It doesn't matter. I don't matter." Her eye twitched and she continued to look at her shoes. "Um." "I...gotta go. I have to research some of those things for that class with the things..." she mumbled grabbing her bag. "No, Hermione, I think you should stay." Harry said, putting his arm out to block her. "Let me leave," she said tonelessly. "No," said Harry, his eyes leveled with hers, riddled with concern. He grabbed her arm. "LET ME FUCKING GO!" she exploded. The common room fell silent. Shocked, Harry numbly let go. Hermione bolted out of the dorm, her sore eyes welling up with warm tears. Here she was crying again. What was wrong with her? Just what the hell was wrong with her? She shrugged it off, wiping the tears from her eyes hastily. She slipped through the door of the second floor girl's toilet. "Well, if it isn't-"Moaning Myrtle started. "Piss off," said Hermione. "That's not a suggestion." Myrtle opened her mouth to say something but quickly shut it. She slipped into one of the stalls muttering something like "Well at least I've seen Harry in the buff." Hermione took a seat on the edge of a sink. What was Harry thinking? That slut Cho...Only an imbecile would take her seriously. She'd been passed around the school more times than gonorrhea, from boy to boy, and occasionally, to girl. Why did Harry have to be so stupid? Why did Ron have to be so obnoxious? Why did she have to be so...so damn lonely? Was it her fault? What was wrong with her? She grabbed her bag and withdrew from it a long black quill. She stared hungrily at its sharp, stainless steel tip. She snapped it off and drew it close to her other hand. As she felt the blade rip through her flesh, she felt almost sad that her arm would be ruined. But what did it matter? It had so many scars already. So many wounds, but not all of them were visible... The bathroom door slammed. Hermione was drawn from the warm stupor of self- mutilation. It took her eyes a few seconds to realize who had just walked in. "Ginny. I almost didn't recognize you under that eyeliner. Who does your make up? Lady Godiva*?" Ginny gave a small smile and sauntered over to the sink where she spit out a large amount of sticky white fluid. As she rinsed her mouth out, Hermione sneered in disgust. "Does your brother know what you get up to?" "For a suicidal bitch, you sure are cheerful," Ginny remarked with mock politeness. Hermione stared at the girl for a moment, before throwing her head back in hysterical laughter. "You stupid whore. Don't you know you're a joke? They all laugh at you. We all laugh at you." "Gee," said Ginny innocently. "Harry wasn't too busy laughing last night." Hermione's eyes narrowed. "Take that back, you filth. Harry would never settle for you." Ginny took no notice of her, and began to reapply her lipstick. "Well you know, Hermy Wormy, if you put out a little more, maybe you'd make some friends." She turned to leave. "Oh, and your vibrator called. It wants a break. Says you've been working it overtime. Cutting your arms open isn't the only thing you do up here." She snickered. "I'll say 'Hi' to Potter for you, but my mouth might be a little....full." She gave Hermione the double ups and left. As she closed the door behind her, she heard the mudblood girl shouting some pathetic spell. She'd never have the balls to do a real curse. Scared of getting in trouble with the teachers. Speaking of which... "Professor Snape!" Ginny fluttered over to the devilishly handsome man clad in black. He squinted, his face contorting in disgust. "You little tart," he said in his deep sexy bass voice. "Go wash some of that pig's blood off your face before someone mistakes you for Carrie." "You...don't like my make-up, sir?" said Ginny in her most innocent of baby voices. "Well, why don't we go back to your office and you can give me...suggestions." She ran her tongue over her top lip. "Why don't I give you a month's detention scrubbing toilet seats," said Snape flatly. "Why?" Ginny pouted. "On account of you're ugly and stupid," he remarked simply. She winked. "Only if you're supervising!" He gave her a look of contempt. "Get out of here before I slaughter you maliciously and then hide your body in a dumpster." He pushed past her and strode into his office. Outside he heard a scream of rejection. "Right then, Margaret**. Where were we?" "I believe you were telling me what a talented writer I was," said the buxom young woman draped across Snape's desk. "Yes...yes of course," his deep voice crooned. He glided over to Margaret. "I believe now I shall put on this Amish hat and recite Shakespearian sonnets to you. Sonnet the first." He began to caress her face with his big, masculine, yet gentle, hands. "From fairest creatures we desire..." "Oh, Alan! I mean, Severus!" gasped the woman. A loud bang came from the door. "Bloody hell," muttered Snape. "Um, hold that thought Margaret. What do you want?" "Your majesty, sire. They're back," came a timid, broken voice from the other side of the door.
"Hells bells, Malfoy." Snape sauntered over to the door and opened it a crack. Peering back at him was Draco, eyes darting back and forth.
"I'm telling you sire, they're here."
"Stop calling me sire, you twisted boy. I'm not a king. Well, not yet anyway..." Malfoy started rocking back and forth. Snape eyed him questioningly.
"Bloody hell," he said again, slipping out the door. He held out his hand and Malfoy immediately grabbed it like a small child.
"Come on then."
As they started walking down the hall Malfoy twitched violently.
"Get! Get you!! All of them? I had noticed the warped realm. Quiet darkness. Leave. ALL OF YOU GET!!!"
Snape yawned and let Malfoy ramble. He was used to these outbreaks. Ever since the episode...
"Well, here's the infirmary. Off with you know. I have...work to do." Malfoy reluctantly dropped his hand. Snape rushed back off to his office.
Wide eyed, Malfoy looked around the room, barely noticing the fat nurse as she ushered him into a bed. Inside his head, voices had something that was a cross between a tea party and a shouting competition.
"No, no we must never invite the natives!"
"Porridge! Who made the gingerbread?"
"Nobody knows the trouble I've seen..."
"Shut up, all of you," Malfoy yelled. But the voices did not stop. They grew louder.
"They didn't want you, did they, dragon?"
"No not at all, no one wants him!"
"Definantly not. We don't want him."
"No! Get away dragon!!" "Stop it. Go away! I hate you!!" Malfoy screamed. "Leave us dragon! We do not want you here!" "I cannot go," wimpered Malfoy. "I cannot." "No you can't! Dragon has nowhere to go!" "No one wants him!" "Better he be dead." "Yes, much better off dead. Better for all of us." "Better for him." "No," shouted Malfoy. "NO! NO!!! NO!!" Suddenly they were gone. In a swift, warm wave, the voices vanished. Instead, there was music. Sweet, soft music. Now that all was quiet, Draco rocked gently back and forth, and eyed his companions in the hospital wing. Across from him was that dirty, filthy girl, Hermione, cradling her arm in a large white bandage. She was hurt? Serves her right, so unclean. As the music soaked deeper and deeper into his brain, Malfoy turned to the bed next to him. It was that quidditch girl...Cho. "Well, Miss Chang, I've never heard of anyone getting syphilis from a public toilet seat," remarked the nurse, giving Cho a suspicious look. "But I'm telling you," Cho flashed her biggest doe-eyes. "I don't do any of that kind of stuff." "Sure," said the nurse unconvinced. "Drink this elixir before bed tonight and you should be fine. And, um try to stay away from public toilets for a while," said the nurse winking. Cho nodded and smiled sweetly. "Thank you ever so much!" she chirped, slipping out the door. Stupid Bitch, she thought. Cho dropped the innocent act and slipped into her sultry seductress mode. She winked at a group of first year boys, making them gulp and blush convulsively. God, she was good. Maybe she'd go see Potter. But then again that fat nurse had warned her against public toilets. Oh well, only one tonight she supposed. She approached the Gryffindor common room. "Password," commanded the fat lady. "Let me see," said Cho, absent-mindedly fumbling around. "I have it written down her some where. Oh that's right! I put it in my bra. Let me get it- Oops! Did my boob just fall out? I think it did. Sorry, what were you saying again?" "Um, nothing," The door swung open as the fat lady waddled out of sight. Surveying her territory, Cho pouted in disappointment. "Damn, looks like a rough crowd tonight. Just those frigid second years. Oh well, Potter will be down in a second." Indeed, someone was bounding down the spiral stairs, but it wasn't Harry. "Oooh Ronny!" Cho squealed. "You're just so unbearably cute!" Ron's face changed to a deep scarlet blush almost instantly. "Hey Cho," he squeaked, voice breaking. She pushed him gently into one of the big plushy chairs. "It's Friday night, Ronald. Feeling...lucky?" she crooned, sitting herself down in Ron's lap. He gulped. "Please don't mean what I think you mean," Ron whispered. "Oh Ron!" she gasped. "Don't tease me! You know how delicate I am. I feel so...fragile around you. You're so strong and manly." Ron grinned. "You really think I'm manly?" "Of course," Cho breathed, letting her tongue linger on her top teeth. "You know how I want you."
"Um," said Ron loudly. "You're Harry's girl." "Oh God!" Cho panted. "Is everything about Potter? Come on, Ronny. I won't tell if you won't!" A cheeky smile played on her lips. Ron gulped again. "You're a desperately horny little bastard, aren't you?" said Cho sweetly. "Yep," said Ron numbly. "Come on! I want to see your room. And your bed..." She dragged him upstairs, giggling. Meanwhile, halfway across the castle, Hagrid sneezed.
THE END! Of part one! Hope you liked! If you didn't, then you're just a Cho, aren't you? And if you didn't like it, why did you read to the end?
Geez... Some notes:
*Lady Godiva is a very famous drag queen. Very cool. Don't diss.
** Special cameo by ME! You're favourite author! Guess which
Hogwarts teacher I have a crush on.... STFU Alan is hot. If you don't
believe me see Sense and Sensibility.
K that's all for now. Hopefully I won't be TOO lazy and I'll write the
next bit 'soon'. Any suggestions? Meggles_00@hotmail.com Coolz. Peace
Out.
-Margaret Elizabeth
"Psst! Harry!" Ron whispered, flicking a small folded square of paper. It hit Harry straight in the eye.
"Ta," muttered Harry rubbing his temporarily blinded eye. Taking particular care to hide the note from Professor McGonagall, he unfolded the paper. Reading the message Harry groaned and rolled his eyes.
What did the leper say to the prostitute?
Keep the tip!
He glanced back over at Ron who was grinning like a madman, and, despite himself, let out a chuckle.
Professor McGonagall floated over and loomed ominously in front of him.
"Mr. Potter, how good of you to write me a letter," she said, without a hint of sarcasm. Stony faced, she held her hand out expectantly. Harry looked at Ron, who was shaking violently from silent laughter. He felt the blood rush to his face as he dropped the note into his teacher's hand.
McGonagall allowed a small smirk of triumph to play on the edges of her thin lips. She unfolded the paper. The smile vanished.
She turned abruptly and walked briskly to her desk. Harry winced as he saw his teacher whip out a pink detention slip. McGonagall mustered all her dignity (and ignored the bright pink flush in her cheeks) as she handed it to Harry, who was trying to disappear into his chair. At this point, Ron was practically rolling on the floor in stitches.
"Quite the poet, aren't we, Mr. Weasly?" McGonagall said dryly. She handed him a pink slip as well. "If only you put the same effort into transfiguration."
Harry gave Ron a smile of evil glee and turned around in his chair to see what Hermione thought of the affair. Her fuzzy head was buried deep in her book, but Harry could tell from her vacant blood-shot eyes that she was not studying. He did not disturb her, in case she decided to bite him.
The bell clattered suddenly, and as the class cheerfully shuffled out of the room for another afternoon of wholesome activity, Harry and Ron remained seated.
"Boys, I am extremely disappointed and, well, disgusted with you." Harry noticed that the crimson blush had not faded from her cheeks. She prattled on about morals and ethics for several minutes, but Harry tuned out. He was thinking instead about the strangely vivid dream he had last night. And when he woke up...blood everywhere and that odd feeling of ecstatic excitement. The adrenaline pumping and pulsing through his veins. The power. The power to take life...
"So I want you to join me after dinner tomorrow night to discuss your punishment further. Do you understand?"
"Hard not to after that speech," Ron muttered under his breath. As the boys left the classroom, Harry shook his head.
"'smatter, Harry? Cho not givin' any?" Ron joked, winking like a ham.
"At least I have a girlfriend, unlike some sex-deprived immature little boys in this room," Harry stared at his friend.
"At least I'M not still a virgin," retorted Ron.
"Dude, your sister doesn't count," laughed Harry. Ron slammed him hard against a nearest wall.
"You eat with that mouth, Harry?" Ron said menacingly, narrowing his eyes.
"Calm down," Harry squealed weakly. "It's...just a joke."
Ron stared hard into his eyes for a moment. He released his hold on Harry. They continued to walk back to their dorm in silence. Hermione was already in the common room staring blankly at her feet. "Hey Her-moyne," Harry teased obnoxiously. Her eyes slowly shifted from her feet to his face. They were watery and red, in deep contrast to the pallor of her face. "What." She croaked. It wasn't a question. Ron rolled his eyes and stormed up the stairs to his room. "Hey, is something wrong?" Harry pulled up a chair. "It doesn't matter. I don't matter." Her eye twitched and she continued to look at her shoes. "Um." "I...gotta go. I have to research some of those things for that class with the things..." she mumbled grabbing her bag. "No, Hermione, I think you should stay." Harry said, putting his arm out to block her. "Let me leave," she said tonelessly. "No," said Harry, his eyes leveled with hers, riddled with concern. He grabbed her arm. "LET ME FUCKING GO!" she exploded. The common room fell silent. Shocked, Harry numbly let go. Hermione bolted out of the dorm, her sore eyes welling up with warm tears. Here she was crying again. What was wrong with her? Just what the hell was wrong with her? She shrugged it off, wiping the tears from her eyes hastily. She slipped through the door of the second floor girl's toilet. "Well, if it isn't-"Moaning Myrtle started. "Piss off," said Hermione. "That's not a suggestion." Myrtle opened her mouth to say something but quickly shut it. She slipped into one of the stalls muttering something like "Well at least I've seen Harry in the buff." Hermione took a seat on the edge of a sink. What was Harry thinking? That slut Cho...Only an imbecile would take her seriously. She'd been passed around the school more times than gonorrhea, from boy to boy, and occasionally, to girl. Why did Harry have to be so stupid? Why did Ron have to be so obnoxious? Why did she have to be so...so damn lonely? Was it her fault? What was wrong with her? She grabbed her bag and withdrew from it a long black quill. She stared hungrily at its sharp, stainless steel tip. She snapped it off and drew it close to her other hand. As she felt the blade rip through her flesh, she felt almost sad that her arm would be ruined. But what did it matter? It had so many scars already. So many wounds, but not all of them were visible... The bathroom door slammed. Hermione was drawn from the warm stupor of self- mutilation. It took her eyes a few seconds to realize who had just walked in. "Ginny. I almost didn't recognize you under that eyeliner. Who does your make up? Lady Godiva*?" Ginny gave a small smile and sauntered over to the sink where she spit out a large amount of sticky white fluid. As she rinsed her mouth out, Hermione sneered in disgust. "Does your brother know what you get up to?" "For a suicidal bitch, you sure are cheerful," Ginny remarked with mock politeness. Hermione stared at the girl for a moment, before throwing her head back in hysterical laughter. "You stupid whore. Don't you know you're a joke? They all laugh at you. We all laugh at you." "Gee," said Ginny innocently. "Harry wasn't too busy laughing last night." Hermione's eyes narrowed. "Take that back, you filth. Harry would never settle for you." Ginny took no notice of her, and began to reapply her lipstick. "Well you know, Hermy Wormy, if you put out a little more, maybe you'd make some friends." She turned to leave. "Oh, and your vibrator called. It wants a break. Says you've been working it overtime. Cutting your arms open isn't the only thing you do up here." She snickered. "I'll say 'Hi' to Potter for you, but my mouth might be a little....full." She gave Hermione the double ups and left. As she closed the door behind her, she heard the mudblood girl shouting some pathetic spell. She'd never have the balls to do a real curse. Scared of getting in trouble with the teachers. Speaking of which... "Professor Snape!" Ginny fluttered over to the devilishly handsome man clad in black. He squinted, his face contorting in disgust. "You little tart," he said in his deep sexy bass voice. "Go wash some of that pig's blood off your face before someone mistakes you for Carrie." "You...don't like my make-up, sir?" said Ginny in her most innocent of baby voices. "Well, why don't we go back to your office and you can give me...suggestions." She ran her tongue over her top lip. "Why don't I give you a month's detention scrubbing toilet seats," said Snape flatly. "Why?" Ginny pouted. "On account of you're ugly and stupid," he remarked simply. She winked. "Only if you're supervising!" He gave her a look of contempt. "Get out of here before I slaughter you maliciously and then hide your body in a dumpster." He pushed past her and strode into his office. Outside he heard a scream of rejection. "Right then, Margaret**. Where were we?" "I believe you were telling me what a talented writer I was," said the buxom young woman draped across Snape's desk. "Yes...yes of course," his deep voice crooned. He glided over to Margaret. "I believe now I shall put on this Amish hat and recite Shakespearian sonnets to you. Sonnet the first." He began to caress her face with his big, masculine, yet gentle, hands. "From fairest creatures we desire..." "Oh, Alan! I mean, Severus!" gasped the woman. A loud bang came from the door. "Bloody hell," muttered Snape. "Um, hold that thought Margaret. What do you want?" "Your majesty, sire. They're back," came a timid, broken voice from the other side of the door.
"Hells bells, Malfoy." Snape sauntered over to the door and opened it a crack. Peering back at him was Draco, eyes darting back and forth.
"I'm telling you sire, they're here."
"Stop calling me sire, you twisted boy. I'm not a king. Well, not yet anyway..." Malfoy started rocking back and forth. Snape eyed him questioningly.
"Bloody hell," he said again, slipping out the door. He held out his hand and Malfoy immediately grabbed it like a small child.
"Come on then."
As they started walking down the hall Malfoy twitched violently.
"Get! Get you!! All of them? I had noticed the warped realm. Quiet darkness. Leave. ALL OF YOU GET!!!"
Snape yawned and let Malfoy ramble. He was used to these outbreaks. Ever since the episode...
"Well, here's the infirmary. Off with you know. I have...work to do." Malfoy reluctantly dropped his hand. Snape rushed back off to his office.
Wide eyed, Malfoy looked around the room, barely noticing the fat nurse as she ushered him into a bed. Inside his head, voices had something that was a cross between a tea party and a shouting competition.
"No, no we must never invite the natives!"
"Porridge! Who made the gingerbread?"
"Nobody knows the trouble I've seen..."
"Shut up, all of you," Malfoy yelled. But the voices did not stop. They grew louder.
"They didn't want you, did they, dragon?"
"No not at all, no one wants him!"
"Definantly not. We don't want him."
"No! Get away dragon!!" "Stop it. Go away! I hate you!!" Malfoy screamed. "Leave us dragon! We do not want you here!" "I cannot go," wimpered Malfoy. "I cannot." "No you can't! Dragon has nowhere to go!" "No one wants him!" "Better he be dead." "Yes, much better off dead. Better for all of us." "Better for him." "No," shouted Malfoy. "NO! NO!!! NO!!" Suddenly they were gone. In a swift, warm wave, the voices vanished. Instead, there was music. Sweet, soft music. Now that all was quiet, Draco rocked gently back and forth, and eyed his companions in the hospital wing. Across from him was that dirty, filthy girl, Hermione, cradling her arm in a large white bandage. She was hurt? Serves her right, so unclean. As the music soaked deeper and deeper into his brain, Malfoy turned to the bed next to him. It was that quidditch girl...Cho. "Well, Miss Chang, I've never heard of anyone getting syphilis from a public toilet seat," remarked the nurse, giving Cho a suspicious look. "But I'm telling you," Cho flashed her biggest doe-eyes. "I don't do any of that kind of stuff." "Sure," said the nurse unconvinced. "Drink this elixir before bed tonight and you should be fine. And, um try to stay away from public toilets for a while," said the nurse winking. Cho nodded and smiled sweetly. "Thank you ever so much!" she chirped, slipping out the door. Stupid Bitch, she thought. Cho dropped the innocent act and slipped into her sultry seductress mode. She winked at a group of first year boys, making them gulp and blush convulsively. God, she was good. Maybe she'd go see Potter. But then again that fat nurse had warned her against public toilets. Oh well, only one tonight she supposed. She approached the Gryffindor common room. "Password," commanded the fat lady. "Let me see," said Cho, absent-mindedly fumbling around. "I have it written down her some where. Oh that's right! I put it in my bra. Let me get it- Oops! Did my boob just fall out? I think it did. Sorry, what were you saying again?" "Um, nothing," The door swung open as the fat lady waddled out of sight. Surveying her territory, Cho pouted in disappointment. "Damn, looks like a rough crowd tonight. Just those frigid second years. Oh well, Potter will be down in a second." Indeed, someone was bounding down the spiral stairs, but it wasn't Harry. "Oooh Ronny!" Cho squealed. "You're just so unbearably cute!" Ron's face changed to a deep scarlet blush almost instantly. "Hey Cho," he squeaked, voice breaking. She pushed him gently into one of the big plushy chairs. "It's Friday night, Ronald. Feeling...lucky?" she crooned, sitting herself down in Ron's lap. He gulped. "Please don't mean what I think you mean," Ron whispered. "Oh Ron!" she gasped. "Don't tease me! You know how delicate I am. I feel so...fragile around you. You're so strong and manly." Ron grinned. "You really think I'm manly?" "Of course," Cho breathed, letting her tongue linger on her top teeth. "You know how I want you."
"Um," said Ron loudly. "You're Harry's girl." "Oh God!" Cho panted. "Is everything about Potter? Come on, Ronny. I won't tell if you won't!" A cheeky smile played on her lips. Ron gulped again. "You're a desperately horny little bastard, aren't you?" said Cho sweetly. "Yep," said Ron numbly. "Come on! I want to see your room. And your bed..." She dragged him upstairs, giggling. Meanwhile, halfway across the castle, Hagrid sneezed.
THE END! Of part one! Hope you liked! If you didn't, then you're just a Cho, aren't you? And if you didn't like it, why did you read to the end?
Geez... Some notes:
*Lady Godiva is a very famous drag queen. Very cool. Don't diss.
** Special cameo by ME! You're favourite author! Guess which
Hogwarts teacher I have a crush on.... STFU Alan is hot. If you don't
believe me see Sense and Sensibility.
K that's all for now. Hopefully I won't be TOO lazy and I'll write the
next bit 'soon'. Any suggestions? Meggles_00@hotmail.com Coolz. Peace
Out.