Title: The Magical Mystery Tour

Author: Tiny Q

E-Mail: one_legged_lesbian_seagull@hotmail.com

A/N: Well, as I have mentioned before, I have been trying to get out as many old ideas as I can.  I have a huge pile of song fic ideas that I have been pondering writing, but never did.  So, I finally figured out a way to use a few of them.  In a satirical way of course.  So please, don't take this story too seriously.  I sure didn't. 

Disclaimer:  I own nothing.  Nope.  Not even the songs.  Not even Ginny.  And sadly, not even Draco.  Though, I do put a claim on their insanity for it seems to reflect my own for some reason...  Oh, and so you know, the idea of books getting angry is from Terry Pratchett and his Discworld series.  Such a great series...

The Magical Mystery Tour

Chapter 1

Welcome to the Jungle

~*~

            Grumbling to herself, Ginny traveled through the library, searching high and low.  She knew the book had been misplaced, taken and shoved on some shelf or another.  Ms. Pince had assured her that it was still in the library, but she was too busy to help her find it.  She had people in the Restricted Section to watch with her hawk-like eyes.

            Ginny let out a hiss of annoyance.  She hated libraries.  She hated books.  She especially hated books that she couldn't find.  What was the point of having a filing system to find books if the books weren't in their place?  It was all pointless.  Why not just have the books scattered about the floor then?  That way everything would be in chaos and no one would be happy.

            Ginny smirked.  Then she sneezed.

            "Eww," she sighed, wiping her slightly moist hand on her hip.  "That was gross," she muttered to herself, tilting her head to the side and traveling along in a hunched manner, butt first, trying to read the names of the spines on one of the lower shelves. 

            They were all in Latin.  Ginny hated Latin.  Yes, she had suddenly decided that she did.  There was no reason why she should like it while it tormented her.  It also seemed to be taunting her.  Taunting her for not being able to find her book.  Now that she thought about it though, all the books in the library seemed to be doing this to her.  She really hated books.

            Now you might be wondering just why Ginny is so spiteful.  Well, it's not an entirely everyday occurrence really.  It just tends to happen when she doesn't get enough sleep, or enough food, or it was that nasty time of the month, or someone had ticked her off.  So it was a two out of three day occurrence now that I think about it. 

            Yet she has reasons to be like this I suppose.  People don't take her seriously.  They never did.  She's just the little baby girl to her family, the one to be coddled and protected while her brothers spewed off tales of daring and adventure that she was supposed to squeal about.  At school she was seen as the quite one out.  Ron Weasley's, best friend of the Boy Who Lived, little sister.  The one you shouldn't go near if you valued your life.  Well, not really, but that was the rumor.  Well there were those options.  Those and the fact that Ginny couldn't find her book.

            She knew her Charms assignment needed something good.  Something different.  Something that people had hopefully not handed in in the last century or so.  She didn't think Flitwick would be able to recall a hundred years of essays anyways.  Even if he was that old, which Ginny knew he wasn't.

            This was why Ginny was traveling amongst the untouched, dusty volumes in the back of the library.  Her footprints were leaving marks on the floor it was so undisturbed by anything but dust.  Yet it was the perfect place to find the perfect material.  If only the book had been there of course. 

            She continued her slouched shuffle, knowing full well that her butt was wiggling about in the process.  There was no one to see though, so what was the harm?  Right?

            Something caught her eye and she stopped, peering forward, not quite sure if she should believe her eyes or not.  She continued this peering for a moment longer then let out a whoop of joy.  Reaching forward she grabbed the no longer misplaced book and gingerly lifted it from the shelf.

            "Oh," she said happily, grinning down on the not so large volume.  "I love books."

            "You sound like Granger," a voice drawled from behind her.  Ginny raised the book slightly then slowly straightened her slightly stiff back.  Staring at the shelf for a moment to steel herself against what was surely to come, Ginny turned around to face her most hated associate.

            "Malfoy," she said dryly, staring at the lean blonde with dislike.  "What a surprise."

            "Oh, I can see it etched all over that ugly face of yours," he sneered at her, his grey eyes dropping to look at the dusty book in her hand.  She moved it closer to her person.  She hadn't been sneezing up a storm to lose her book now.  Nope.  She worked to get it.  It was hers now.

            "Are you sure you're not just seeing a reflection of yourself?" she snarled back, resisting the urge to smack herself.  Lame, lame, lame! was running through her head.  But she told the voice to shut up.  She didn't really care.  It was only Malfoy after all.  And she had to sneeze again.

            "Well, that was a good one," he drawled, taking a step towards her.  Then another.  And another.  Ginny frowned at him, not moving from her spot.  She wasn't scared of him.  How could she be?  Especially after he had run away from some flying snot.  He never did quite forgive her for that.  Which was probably why he was here now: to participate in another wondrous round of Torment the Little Red Headed Weasley Girl!  (His personal favorite).  Ginny mentally growled at the voice announcing things in her head.  "Not exactly up to your usual standards, are we?"

            "Oh go dig yourself a hole and die in it," she spat, not exactly feeling in the mood to listen to the ferret boy act all high and mighty on his invisible horse.  She tended to think of it as his invisible slug really, but no one seemed to care for this particular thought so she often kept it to herself.  With a sniff from her slightly itchy nose, she turned away from him and made to leave the library.

            Only a hand on her arm stopped her.

            "Let go of me, Malfoy," she said icily, not even turning to look at him.  She really hated him.  Him and his self-proclaimed greatness.  He really wasn't that great.  He really wasn't that loved either.  No one liked him. Or at least Ginny liked to think so.  And besides, he was ugly.  Ok, that was a touch of an understatement.  So was that.  He was devilishly handsome, making it even more infuriating because the git knew it.  Ginny resisted the urge to hiss.

            "But I wasn't finished with you yet," he drawled, pulling her around to face him.  She felt her lip twist.

            "Oh, so sorry," she said in an apologetic voice.  "What would you like me to do for you to make up for it then?  Skip about?  Sing?  Dance?  Strip?  All of above?"  She let out a disgusted noise at the interest that had appeared on his face.  "You are such a pig Malfoy."

            "Well, I'm not the one who was raised with them," he responded, his hand traveling up to catch in her long and wavy red hair.  She jerked her head away.

            "Yes, and that is why I recognize the resemblance you have to swine," she snarled, trying to jerk her arm free.  Yet it didn't really work.  He was a touch too strong for her.  Only thing she managed to do was upset her nose.  And since her free arm was still grasping her book, she had no way to cover her mouth in a convenient way...

            "Achoo!"  Pause.  "Eww."

            "Gah, did you just sneeze on me, Weasley?" Malfoy gasped, his voice dripping with indignation and disgust.  His hand dropped off her arm.  Ginny grinned slightly at the new Malfoy repellant she had just discovered.

            "Yes I apparently did," she said with a sniff, grinning up at him.  "And if you don't leave me alone I will sneeze on you some more because there is plenty more dust about that is just dying to make itself present in my olfactory system."

            Malfoy took another step back.  "Why don't you go sneeze on your precious Potter, Weasley?" he snarled at her, looking disdainfully down on his robes, which seemed a touch damp, then glared at her.  "I know how much you love it when he yells at you."

            "Oh screw off!" Ginny heard herself yell, and before she could really think of what she was doing she had thrown her precious book at him.  It wasn't that she didn't like the book, not after all her searching and sneezing, but her contempt for Malfoy outweighed her fondness of the book. 

            She then opened her mouth once more to say that Harry had issues.  That it wasn't fair of Malfoy to pick fun of him.  That Malfoy would not have survived if he had been in Harry's shoes because he was a weak ninny.  That he should be thankful rather than insulting for all that Harry had done.  But she never quite got the chance.

            Malfoy flung up his arms to stop the book from hitting him in the face, like a good book should.  However, there was another dusty volume in his own hands and Ginny's book collided with it.  There was a blinding flash of blue light and Ginny let out a yelp of surprise as she felt magic rush through her.

~*~

            "Stop your screaming, you stupid girl," Draco hissed at the red head before him, lowering the book down from before his face.  He stared down at it, not quite sure if he trusted it anymore.  And for good reason.  Who would trust a book that flashed music for no apparent reason?  Well, it did have a reason really.  It had been hit by another book.  It had full right to get angry.  But were books actually capable of getting angry?  Apparently they could, though Draco refused to quite believe it.  "Pince will have our heads."

            "Oh, and making books blow up won't?" she sneered at him, pushing her long hair out of her face.  She glowered at him.  "And I wasn't screaming.  I just let out a sharp gasp."

            "Whatever," he hissed at her, trying to keep his voice down, still looking at the book.  "It sounded like screaming to me."  He paused.  "And the books did not blow up."

            "Well that's because you're an idiot, Malfoy," she snapped.  Draco slowly raised his head to look at her.  He always enjoyed the way she spat his name when she was angry.  It was one of the reasons why he took time out of his life to bother her, just so he could hear his name be spat off her tongue.  He knew it was not healthy, but then, he was a Malfoy.  A purebred one at that.  Who knew how many of his ancestors were inbred?  Insanity was to be expected.  Even if it was just a case of wanting to hear his name spoken in a rude manner.  "And if it didn't blow up, then what the hell did they do?  Bursting with joy doesn't seem to really fit, does it?"

            "Don't be daft," he snapped at her, once again looking down at the book.  It had been odd.  He had never seen a book do that before.  Never.  It was almost as if the books were alive.  This idea gave him the creeps as he stared at his volume.  He could almost feel it staring back.  He tore his eyes from the book thinking that this was the last time he ever touched one from the Restricted Section.  What he had planned to do with it no longer seemed quite such a good idea.  Not if the book was alive.  That was just wrong.

            "Don't be daft?" she scoffed.  "I wasn't the one who used the book as a shield in the first place!"

            "No, you just threw it," he drawled back, narrowing his eyes.  Merlin how he hated her.  Her and all her happiness and bitterness.  Her and all her joyful little friends.  Her and her pleasantly curved hips and pouty lips.  Her and her horrendous Weasley hair and freckles.  Her and her pathetic lack of wealth.  Oh, how he hated her.  And yet he always found himself drawn to her for some reason.

            It had become one of his favorite pastimes really, torment the youngest Weasley.  It even took president over tormenting the Dream Team at times.  For unlike them, the younger girl never tried to hex him or hurt him physically.  No, she just used that wicked tongue of hers, lashing out with words and retorts he knew were far beyond the capacity of Potter to even comprehend.  It was refreshing to be insulted properly sometimes.

            The girl before him gave off a sniff and she bent down to pick up the book on the floor.  Draco found his eyes resting on her rear that was once again pointed up in the air.  He was a guy.  It was allowed, even if it was a Weasley.  He pointedly looked away at that thought.  His father would be having a conniption if he knew what was going through his head.  But then, his father wasn't quite right in his head anymore anyway.  Not that he ever had been, come to think of it.  He had served the Dark Lord after all.

            "I don't have time for this," she sniffed at him, straightening out.  She glared at him, coming a few inches short of eye level.  At least she was tall, not like that bint Pansy who was always clinging on him like some sort of deranged monkey.  Darco resisted the urge to smack himself in the head.  Oh, how he hated the stupid red head.  Just look what she was making him think!  "I have potions first thing tomorrow."

            "Oh, wouldn't want to fall asleep face first into the potion, now would you?" he sneered at her as she took a step backward, the book once again clutched to her chest.

            "That was weak," she stated, raising an eyebrow.  "Couldn't think of anything better, could you?"  Draco sneered at her.  "And no, I do not particularly want to take that face dive into my potion.  It would be a bit unpleasant."

            With this said, she walked past him, her shoulder bumping into his on the way.  Draco turned and glared daggers at her back, yet the girl did not wilt.  Wilt damn you, wilt.  Yet it never happened.  All he heard was a sniffle. 

            "Get a Kleenex, will you!" he called after her, instantly thinking it was the worst insult he had ever heard.  Yet he did get a response.  It was one of his other favorite reactions from her.  She raised an elegant hand and showed him the middle finger.  He had always admired her hands, even if they were doing something rude like that.  Well, especially when she did something rude like that with them. 

            He had to get a life.

            Without thought, he raised the book in his hands and whacked his head soundly with it.  Little streamers of blue magic swirled down around him.

~*~

            When Ginny opened her eyes, she found that she was no longer surrounded by the comforting darkness that she had fallen asleep to in her dorm room.  Now she found herself standing in the middle of gray expanse that didn't seem to quite end, just go off until she could see nothing but more grayness.  She frowned slightly, looking around, taking in the fact that she was dressed in her school robes.  She had never had a dream quite like this before.  And it seemed to be a pretty dull dream as far as dreams go.  And don't mind her pun.

            "The Magical Mystery Tour is coming to take you away," a voice sang through the gray expanse with a chiming, chipper tone.  Ginny snapped her head about, trying to find the source of the voice.  Yet she saw no one.  "Coming to take you away.  Take you today." 

            The voice faded and Ginny frowned.  For some reason the tune had sounded very familiar and so had the words.  But for the life of her she couldn't quite remember.  She was really beginning to hate her memory.  It never remembered things when it should but always seemed to remember something she didn't want to.  Yup, that is definite justification for hate.

            "Great," she said, crossing her arms.  "I'm stuck in some sort twisted musical."  She let out a small harrumph and hunched her shoulders slightly.  She was going to pout until she woke up apparently.  It seemed a good enough plan to her, considering her surroundings of course.

            "You know, Weasley," a voice drawled from behind her, and Ginny started slightly, whipping around.  "You shouldn't talk to yourself, even if you think there's no one around.  It's not a very good sign where your sanity is concerned."

            "And what would you care about my sanity, Malfoy?" she spat, glaring at the boy before her.  He was dressed in his school robes as well, sneering at her.  Then she frowned.  "And what are you doing in my dream?"

            "I was about to ask you the same thing," he drawled at her, taking a step towards her.  She really hated how he did that.  It was like he thought he was the most perfect being in the universe.  Well she had news for him, he wasn't perfect.  No, it was just that he was a touch on the pretty side.  But that does not constitute perfect being-hood.

            "Well, it's my dream, so I think you should be doing the answering and not the questioning," Ginny hissed impatiently, looking around warily.  This was definitely an odd dream.  Why would she be able to talk to Malfoy as though he was real?  As though he was dreaming the same dream as her?  A commune dream?

            "No, this is my dream," he sneered, shaking his head.  "I was here first.  You just sort of came out of the gray."

            "No, I was here first," Ginny snapped, glaring at him.  "There was no one here but that voice."

            "You mean the one that was singing that Beatles song?" he asked her, the drawl returning. 

            Ginny stopped and stared.  Malfoy had heard it too?  Malfoy knew about Muggle bands?  Malfoy perhaps had a few surprise to him that she never really thought him capable of.  And Malfoy was right too.  It had been a Beatles song.  She silently cursed herself for not picking up on it.  She had only listened to that band being played to death by the twins only five months ago over the summer holidays.  She really wished they would get some new music for the next time she helped them in their store.  Not that she didn't like the Beatles of course.  Who doesn't like the Beatles?

            Ginny opened her mouth then to respond, but never quite got the chance for a new voice boomed across the void.

            "Hello ladies and gentlemen!  Welcome to the Magical Mystery Tour!" the voice boomed.  It sounded familiar, but she couldn't quite place it.  This was becoming an annoying trend.  Oh, how she hated her memory.  "Today I am pleased to present the ever screwed up band with their inspirational body moving music!  That's right, Guns and Roses everybody!"

            Enthusiastic clapping erupted from somewhere around them and Ginny looked about wildly to find where it was coming from.  Then she stopped moving.  "What is Lee Jordan doing here?"

            "You mean his voice," Malfoy offered helpfully, a helpful sneer to accompany his helpful facial expression.

            "Whatever," Ginny snapped, looking around again.  She didn't quite know why she was looking about in such a manner, but she suspected it was better than just looking at Malfoy.  Grayness was better then the likes of him any day.

            "Yes I know," Lee's voice boomed once more after the cheers had stopped.  "I'm excited too.  But I suppose you all want to know what I'm going to play, don't you?  Well, it's that song that I know you all know."  He paused and Ginny found herself looking around again.  But there was still nothing to see but grayness.  "Welcome to the Jungle!" 

            There was more clapping.

            "So, let's get this party started, eh?"

            With that said, the grayness suddenly lifted away and Ginny let out a gasp at what was reviled to her eyes.

            "Oh gosh."

~*~

            Draco looked around, not quite sure that he liked what he was seeing.  And who could blame him really when every person he despised in Hogwarts was standing before him.  Sure, there were quite a few people that he didn't know, but there was a larger amount of detested people than there were unknown.  He also wasn't too keen about the dark forest that was surrounding him.  It was a jungle really.  A dark one.  One with potential tropical werewolves inside it.  Draco repressed a shudder.

            He turned his head to see the dream invading red head beside him glaring at the new arrivals and their new surroundings.  Even when she was mirroring the same look of dislike on her own face, he hated her.  What right did she have to feel like him?

            "I don't like this," she whispered to him, not moving from her position.  Draco was glad about this.  He didn't know if he could take the girl he hated so much moving towards him for protection.  It would just be awkward.

            "What's not to like, Weasley?" he sneered at her.  "Green foliage, all the company we could ever desire, and oh yes, we can't forget this darling view."

            "Oh shut up," she snapped at him, turning her glare towards him.  Draco felt satisfaction slowly swell inside of his chest.  It was very rare that she told him to "shut up".  It was a pleasing phrase really.  He was about to see if he could get her to say it again, when music began to play out of no where.  He looked about but could find no definite source.  Then one of the hated people stepped forward.  It was that ever pathetic Boy Who Lived.  The Potter that just wouldn't die.  Who just wouldn't lose.

            "Welcome to the jungle!  We've got fun and games!" the messy haired boy sang out, in perfect tune to the music.  Draco frowned with contempt.  How could he sing like that?  It didn't even sound like his voice!  Let alone the fact that this was Potter singing.  It was just wrong.  And to top things off, the stupid scar headed freak was dressed in some sorry excuse for a loincloth.  It was disgusting.  He hated this dream with a passion now.  He never wanted to see anything so horrid ever again.

            "We got everything you want!  Honey, we know the names!" the Mudblood Granger hissed out, also dressed in stupid tribal wear, leaning forward in an odd way.  A predatorily way.  Now that Draco saw this second fashion disaster he noticed that all of the people before them were dressed in a similar fashion, all leering and sneering at them.  Draco's hate was beginning to surpass simple hate now.  But he wasn't quite sure what it was surpassing to...

            "We are the people who can find whatever you may need," the oldest Weasley left in Hogwarts hissed at them.  Draco glared.  This was getting to be too much.  Now the entire Dream Team could sing?  This was one really twisted dream.  He hated it and he wanted out.  "If you got the money, honey, we got your disease!"

            Draco could have sworn the over grown weasel had winked at him when he said that and he found himself taking an involuntary step back.  Only to almost bump into someone behind him.  Apparently the others that had been in the group had moved around them, forming a circle.  A circle that was slowly closing.  He glanced to the Weasley girl beside him.  She was beginning to look a touch more than nervous.  If he didn't know better, he would have to say that he saw fear in her eyes.  He had never been able to invoke that.  He felt a sudden anger at the fact that this dream could cause her to be more afraid than he could.

            "In the Jungle, welcome to the jungle!" all of the people screamed around him, beginning to do some odd dance in their circle, as though he and the red head were a great fire to worship.  He stared at them, knowing that he did not want to stay in this dream any longer.  He pinched his arm.  Nothing happened.  He was still dreaming. 

            "Watch it bring you to your knees, knees!"  Then one person in the group stepped forward, away from the others and hissed: "I wanna watch you bleed!"

            The red head beside him let out a small gasp of fright, her hand flying to her chest.  Draco stared at her.  He had never seen a reaction like that before.  He followed her frightened eyes to the black haired boy who had stepped out of the group.  He could see nothing familiar about him, but he had to admit he had a sense of power to him.  A sense of dark power.  Even if he was dressed in ridiculous rags and leaves.  Draco wished he could be like that, just to see the stupid red head's hand fly like that.

            "Welcome to the jungle!  We take it day by day," this dark haired person sang, walking further away from his group and closer to the terrified Weasley.  She took a step back away from him.  Then another.  And another, until she was beside Draco.  He could see her trembling.  Yet she didn't look at him.  She just kept staring at the dark haired boy who was moving ever closer.  Oh, how he wanted to be like him.  "If you want it you're going to bleed.  But it's the price you pay."

            The red head continued to back up and Draco began to get the sense that he should be backing up as well.  Even if it was his new idol who was approaching.  He hadn't achieved the ability to be that intimidating yet so he figured he wasn't immune to it yet.  Yes, that's what it was.  Or at least that is what he told himself as he took a step back along with the Weasley.  Yet as he backed up, he noticed that the people in the circle were moving closer to them.  Tightening their circle and making it impossible to leave.  Trapping them.

            "And you're a very sexy girl," the dark haired boy whispered, coming to a stop a foot in front of the Weasley beside him.  Draco stared at her.  She had stopped shaking, yet her eyes were still wide and her complexion quite pale.  Yet he couldn't quite bring himself to do anything.  It was fascinating to see just how scared she could get.  Just how much potential there was inside of her.  He knew he should have done something though.  He wasn't the one tormenting her and for some reason he was getting the feeling that no one else should be able to.  No one but him.  Draco knew then that he was past the point of being normal.

            He still couldn't move though.  It was as if his feet were rooted to the ground and all he could do is stare.  He watched silently as the boy reached out a hand and cupped the girl's face. 

            "That's very hard to please," he drawled, an evil glint to his eyes.  He moved his face clearer to hers, and Draco wondered why she wasn't moving if this creature scared her so.  She wouldn't stand for him to do what this bint was doing, so why would she not stand up for herself?  What had happened to the strong willed Weasley he usually spared with?  Why had she shied away?

            As if reading his mind, her head snapped back suddenly, her eyes narrowing into slits.  She shoved the dark haired boy's hand away roughly, glaring at him with a vehemence that Draco had never quite seen.  He felt anger once more that he had never gotten her that angry.  And yet at the same time he felt that touch of appreciation for the dark haired boy.  He knew how to vex her. 

            "Stop!" she suddenly shrieked. 

            Everyone present stared at her as if she had gone insane.  It was as if time had frozen though.  A moment later there was a howling wind and everything was swept up into it.  Draco felt himself standing there, being pushed about, but his feet never left the ground.  He couldn't see a thing and the sound of the wind was intolerable.  Then, as soon as it had begun, the wind died down and he was surrounded by grayness once more. The only person present was a slightly winded Weasley, staring about wildly.

            "Well, that got a little out of hand," Jordan's voice sliced through the air, causing Draco to start slightly.  "But I'm sure I will have it all figured out by tomorrow!"

            "What do you mea-" Draco began to scream, but never got the chance to completely voice his question. To ask what he meant by "tomorrow".  What the hell that had all been.  Why he was getting the sinking suspicion that this wasn't an ordinary dream.  That there was something terribly wrong.

            But everything went black.

~*~

            An instant later, two teens awoke from a cold sweat.  Each looking about in a frantic sort of way to spot the other, yet neither one found what they were looking for.  It took a moment, but eventually they both flopped down upon their pillows once more.

            "Shit."

~*~

A/N:  Well, how was that for a beginning?  I had such a hard time picking the song, but Lallie helped me out.  Now, all I have to do is figure out how the rest of it is going to fit in here...  So.  Smash or Trash??