Disclaimer: I'm working on it.

This is dedicated to bloodytearz666 and XXXbloodyrists666XXX. Your stories have inspired me. I highly suggest you go and read their works.

Thank you, Tara and Jennie.

I'm Ok, I Promise. But Just in Case, Wake Me Up.

Hermione Granger flipped a page in her book. Only the soft whisper of paper rubbing against paper was heard. Her brown eyes travelled down the page in bliss. This is how you should spend your Sunday afternoon. Granted, soaking up some sun would be better. Hermione glanced outside, and watched the rain fall. She scowled at the window as though it were its fault.

She was the only person in the library. Save for Draco Malfoy, but he was somewhere on the other side, completely ignoring her and she was returning the favour. She slid her hand down into her bag to retrieve some parchment and a quill. Once her work station was meticulously set up, and an unholy sound rudely shattered her fragile peace.

Her lifelong friend and temporary, if not convenient, lover burst into the library ignoring all the rules of this Sacred Sanctum. His eyes scanned the room purposefully until they landed on Hermione. "'Mione!" he bellowed. She was at first confused, and thought that he had mistaken her for someone else. Hermione looked behind her for this "'Mione" and saw no one. She turned back in her seat and found herself face to face with Ron. He looked horrible and winded, too. His hair was mussed attractively and his shirt was rumpled, emphasizing his Quidditch Toned Muscles. Who knew sitting on a broom worked the biceps?

"Yes, Ron?" she asked, sensing her studying was over and closed her book.

"You mean you haven't heard, 'Mione?" he asked, incredulously.

"It's Hermione," she said abruptly. Ron frowned in confusion. Hermione rolled her eyes, "You called me 'Mione. My name is Hermione."

Ron made an impatient sound, "That's not important right now," he said, "I just heard the most awful news!" He paused to dramatize the moment, and looked around, "You're Voldemort's heir and the final horcrux!" he whispered, urgently.

Hermione blinked. "That makes no sense."

"Au contraire mon Pierre! It does make sense." His eyes were wide now. "You're not really Hermione Granger, at all!"

Hermione blinked again. What?

"Listen," he whispered, leaning in conspiratorially, "After you were born, Voldemort put a spell on you, making you his heir and horcrux and then hid you amongst Muggles for eleven years."

"That's utter bollocks," Hermione stated, beginning to collect her things.

"No, 'Mione, it's--,"

"All kinds of ridiculous. And my name's Hermione." Huffing, she swung her bag over her shoulder and headed towards the exit. She was about forty feet away when the door burst open again. This time it was her lifelong friend and Goth, Harry Potter. He didn't run in as Ron had because Goths don't run. They meander. He meandered in, scanning the room with disinterest. When his spectacular green eyes, lined with (not just black, but onyx) eyeliner, fell on Hermione, he slowly made his way towards her. His clingy black and fantastically Gothic clothes looked admittedly attractive on her melancholy friend. The black shirt, emblazoned with My Chemical Romance (even though it's only 1997) emphasized his Quidditch Toned Muscles. Who knew sitting on a broom worked the abs?

"Maya," he said when he reached her.

"Who?" asked Ron and Hermione simultaneously.

Harry stepped forward and his green eyes locked on her chocolate ones. "Maya, I have something important to tell you."

"It's 'Mione," piped Ron.

"It's Hermione and what is it, Harry?" asked Hermione.

"I'm," started Harry, but he broke off with a sigh. He looked down at his wrists covered with wrist guards and his painted nails, "I'm your brother."

Ron's jaw unhinged, and Hermione choked. "No you aren't," she said firmly.

Harry's eyes filled with as much emotion as his Gothic-ness would allow and grabbed her shoulders, "But I am. We were separated at birth after Voldemort tried to kill us and you were sent to live amongst Muggles."

Hermione rolled her eyes, "That's completely illogical. And it ruins Ron's plot."

"No," said Ron slowly, "It goes with mine, too. Think about it, Voldemort made you his heir and horcrux, then tried to kill Harry. And then you were separated for eleven years."

"Well then, if this makes so much sense, why did Voldemort try to kill Harry and not me?" Hermione asked smugly.

"The prophecy," was Harry's sombre reply.

Silence.

Hermione's lips pressed in a firm line. Bending down, she grabbed her bag swung it over her shoulders. She gave her friends a haughty stare and turned—once again—towards the exit. And—once again—her exit was prevented by another arrival. The arrival of Blaise Zabini. His slanted eyes scanned the library and fell on Hermione. Unlike Ron's running, or Harry's meandering, Zabini made determined strides in her direction. His air of aristocracy was (of course) very attractive, and his dark skin seemed to glow in the candlelight of the library. His fitted slacks emphasized his Quidditch Toned Muscles. Who knew sitting on a broom worked the bum—

And Hermione stopped that train of thought, because it didn't make sense. Zabini doesn't even play Quidditch.

Before Zabini opened his mouth, Ron spoke, "Who're you?"

Blaise arched one perfect eyebrow, "I'm Blaise Zabini," he said confidently.

Ron's eyebrows knitted together in confusion, "I thought Blaise was a girl."

"And Italian," said Harry morosely.

Now Zabini's other eyebrow raised, "Where'd you hear that?" But Harry and Ron fell silent and refused to answer. How could they possibly admit the truth? Blaise turned his attention back to Hermione, "I have something important to tell you, Mia—,"

"It's Maya," said Harry sadly.

"It's 'Mione," said Ron.

"It's—oh, never mind," sighed Hermione.

"Whatever," said Blaise, with a careless wave of his hand, "I need to tell you something," he lowered his voice, so everyone had to lean in, "I'm your brother."

Hermione rolled her rich chocolatey caramel orbs, Ron gasped, and Harry—Harry did nothing.

"I already told Harry; that's not plausible," said Hermione.

Zabini laughed handsomely. "Ah, but you see, it is," he pulled out a sheet of paper, "Here is your birth certificate. Your name is Hermione Ruby Sapphire Precious Mineral Diamond Crystal Zabini."

Hermione gaped. "That's a horrible name."

"Alas, it is true," said Blaise.

"Aha!" exclaimed Hermione, "How can I be Harry's sister and yours and Voldemort's heir and last horcrux? Plot hole, I tell you."

"Easy," said Harry emotionlessly, "We're half-siblings. We share a dad. You were separated from Blaise, then me, and then sent to Muggles for eleven years."

"But," said Hermione desperately, "Why did he choose me and not Blaise, who's a guy."

"Because you're also a Seer," said Ron as if that explained it all.

More silence.

After some deep breaths, Hermione spoke, "Ok, ok, I can fix this. How do you explain the lack of adoption papers and my birth certificate at home that says I'm Hermione Jane Granger?"

"Destroyed and fake," said Zabini, examining his nails.

"The baby photos?"

"Fake."

"The hospital tag?"

"Fake."

"The blood tests?"

"Fake, and we really mustn't waste time. You still have to meet your betrothed," said Blaise taking Hermione's hand.

"My what?" spluttered Hermione, making sure her feet were firmly on the ground.

Zabini gave her a once over and tutted, "You can't possibly meet him looking like that." And with a flick of his wrist, Hermione's bushy hair was replaced by easily manageable, yet oh-so unrealistically soft and wavy hair. Her average shape was replaced by a slender one with curves in all the right places. And her Hogwarts robes were replaced by fashionable ones. She had some light makeup on, too. In other words, she was hot stuff.

Looking in the mirror provided, Hermione's face resembled something akin to horror. "What have you done to me?" she cried.

Blaise shook his head, "Not now, Mia--,"

"Maya."

"'Mione."

"Whatever," Zabini snapped, "Now it's time for you to meet your betrothed."

"Who is it?" asked Hermione, quite tired of fighting the inevitable.

At that moment, Draco Malfoy had finished his assignments and was making his way towards the exit, intent on getting some food. He almost made it; however, a voice hailing him stopped Draco in his tracks. He looked over and laid his stormy orbs on the most bizarre gathering his seventeen years had ever seen. Standing together in the library as if was the most natural thing to do was Ron, a solemn Harry, Blaise (who Draco could've sworn looked tanner), and a very attractive which whom he had never seen before. Seeing as it was Zabini who called him, Draco made his way over. As he got closer, though, he noticed that the beautiful witch was none other than Hermione Granger.

"Granger?" he asked incredulously, "What happened to you?"

Hermione looked as if she wanted someone to Avada her right there. Draco noticed that Blaise was holding her arm quite possessively. Help me, she mouthed.

"Drake," said Zabini, clapping him on the shoulder.

"Who?" asked Harry, Ron, Hermione and Draco together.

But Blaise continued on, "I have something important to tell you."

The End

From Anastasia: My first attempt at a parody. I repeat, it's a parody. From the title to the "I suck at summaries :P."

Hope you liked it.

--Beaverhausen