Title: Prophecies Suck, Even if They Are Fake: A Rambling Tale (in Fourteen Parts) of Draco and Hermione as They Travel the Path to Enlightenment Without Torches or Lumos or Cursed Scars to Guide Them
Authors: kansol_encore, unseenlibrarian, alina290, captainraychill,leopion, pokeystar & justthedreams
Disclaimer:This work is intended to be a transformative commentary on the original. All characters belong to J.K. Rowling. No copyright infringement is intended.
Summary: A Muggle carnival sets off an absurd chain of spirally events in which the virgin/whore duality is explored, nuts are spread, towels are ever shrinking, odors are emitted, and of course, babies are made.
Authors' Note: Check back regularly. dormiensa is our awesome beta.
Warnings/Rating: T/crack
Chapter 1: That'll Be $50 Bucks
Author: kansol-encore
Beta: dormiensa
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The beaded bag jingled erratically as Hermione's hand alighted on a vast assortment of objects. She pushed aside her daily items: a lip balm she'd been working on for three years, four cauldrons, five reference volumes from the MLE library, six potion vials, and seven self-inking quills. Digging around them, she moved to a sublevel within the spacious purse and grasped at what were presumably a sack of eyeballs, a master suite of furniture, the gift she kept forgetting to wrap, some treats for Crooks, and a roll of Spellotape.
In the submerged depths, her fingers deftly maneuvered around a Rememberall, a set of Extendable Ears, an emergency Portkey, a cherished item she'd turn into a Horcrux should the need arise, keys to nowhere, and a grass scented candle.
The purse kept jingling.
"Just a moment more. It must be in here somewhere…"
Inhaling grandly, Hermione resumed her wandering search. She ripped her old tent, sliced her finger on a sheet of loose parchment, and accidentally poked Nigellus in the eye.
"Nearly at the bottom…"
Scrapping at the worn velvet, her fingers slid across lint decades-old before finally clutching at three Knuts.
"Aha! I knew they were in here. Thirteen days ago I made change … well, never mind. The point is you doubted me." Smiling triumphantly, she reached for Draco's folded arms and, after prying his fist open, deposited her loose Knuts in his hand.
"For you. And now our deal is back on. My lunch money for a week!"
Unamused, Draco looked down at the petty change. He tossed Hermione a disgruntled look. "You want what you want, and I want what I want." He picked at the ancient fuzz. "And for the record, I do not want these coins—I'm a billionaire—and I will not enjoy this manifestly nightmarish excursion to the Muggle carnival."
Hermione reached up on her tiptoes and patted him on the head. "I know, but if I recall correctly, you said a similar thing about the zoo, too. Then, you bought it."
"You drive a hard bargain."
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Magic could never fabricate the exact shade of putrid green that coloured Draco's notoriously pale skin. It was a sickening hue of defecated asparagus that made onlookers' stomachs curl, incited jealousy among the carnival's freak shows, and made Hermione howl in delight.
"Oh Draco, your face!" She slapped her knee. "You look positively wretched. Let me take your picture?"
Hermione jostled about inside her beaded bag, certain a Polaroid was within.
"Take your time, Granger. My spirits are at an all-time high. This evening is one for the Pensieve."
Hermione suppressed a snicker. "No need to look so spoiled. Two more attractions then it's sayonara."
The trip to the carnival had started well enough. The couple had Apparated to an abandoned area and walked leisurely to the site of the travelling carnival, quips aplenty and laughs voracious on the part of Hermione. She did her best to not share all the information she knew about carnivals and Draco did his best to hide his piquing interest.
"I'm curious about this corned dog?"
"Corndog. It's a hotdog dipped in batter and fried hard."
"A hot dog?"
"Trust me, you'll love it. In these parts, it's fine dining."
Satisfied that he'd be getting the absolutely best the Muggle carnival had to offer, Draco commenced a steady stream of questions concerning Ferris wheels and the prospects of winning a stuffed toy.
At the entrance, they had purchased an indecent amount of tickets, and for the first forty-five minutes, the carnival experience advance smoothly. Upon disembarking from the Chair-O-Planes, the world began spinning off axis.
"I'm in need of a break. We should play games at the arcade."
"Only if you're prepared to lose."
It wasn't until well-reasoned advice went unheeded that things went wonky.
"Malfoy, it's a fool's errand to eat that entire turkey leg. We should at least rest fifteen minutes after you've consumed that kilo of meat."
Draco pointed imperiously with said turkey leg. "To the Tilt-A-Whirl."
"I'm definitely telling you 'I told you so' later."
And now Hermione was gladly laughing at Draco's expense.
"You look ridiculous."
"If you say it…"
"Malfoy, that would be cruel. Let's head to the House of Mirrors. I want you to get a good look at yourself."
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Not prone to sighing, Draco let out a huff. He had survived the carnival—or was about to survive it,— a as the exit was fifty meters away. At the first sheen of sweat, he had put it in his mind to buy all the carnivals everywhere to shut them down.
In halting steps, he shuffled forwards. Please Merlin, don't let her see or say anything.
"Ooh Draco! Look there. It's a Fortune Teller."
"Prophecies are for Potter and you hate Divination."
"Well, it's a carnival and we need the full experience. What's the worst that could happen? You can sit there and I'll get my palm read. Deal?"
"I already took all your lunch money."
"Another deal, then?"
Draco looked longingly at the exit post, positive disaster would follow. "After you."
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Madame Nickolia Centis was a stocky woman of fluid though studied movements. Tiny silver bells and bangles tinkled as she stood, revealing her pirate/gypsy costume that clashed comically with her overall neat appearance. She smiled grandly and beckoned the pair within the cramped tent, bedecked with fraying tapestries, gilded curtains, and stuffed with odds and ends from starter Divination kits.
"We've made a mistake."
The seer turned her inner eye to the naysayer, masking her distaste swiftly. She took them by the elbows ushering them in with meaningful silence.
"Madame, it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance."
"None of your fuss; fussing shan't be tolerated. Have a seat. Put your bums in a chair." Not waiting to be told a third time, Hermione sat awkwardly as Draco relaxed watching the show.
"What a lovely cryst—"
"Silence, young lady! Let the gentleman speak."
Uncomfortable with the attention, Draco deflected easily. "She'd like her palm read."
"No—the spirits are channeling." She began quaking. "My body! The spirits! YOU!"
For ten frightful minutes, Draco and Hermione watched as Madame Nickolia Centis spun in dizzying circles, chanting haikus, making windmills with her arms, and recklessly rubbing her crystal ball.
"Perhaps we should call the authorities?"
"THE SPIRITS WILL SPEAK. SPIRITS SPEAK!"
Virgin Malfoy womb
Be filled that which is hollow
Unicorns guard thee
Hermione turned to Draco, eyes wide in amazement, and put her ear to his six-pack. "I felt a kick!"