Stirring the spicy curry with a flick of her wand, Parvati paused to smack her passing sister on the ass like she was ending the life of an undeserving fly with a fly swatter. Padma gave a little jerk of surprise and made the noise of a wounded moth circling a dead roach.
"Parvati!" Padma shrieked. They were very close, being identical twins, but Padma had recently received a burn on her buns. She didn't know where it had come from-- that was a mystery to her. She grinned at her sister like a wolverine.
"I wonder where that mysterious burn came from," Parvati mused like an ancient village idiot and scratched her head with the curry-covered fork. The creamy curry dripped onto her nearly bare shoulder- covered only with her tie flipped over it like a continental soldier. She licked the fork ravenously, accidentally biting off one of the metal tines. Shrugging, she swallowed it in a fit of lust.
Padma grimaced as she witnessed this. "Ummm, Parvati. Did you talk to Hermione yesterday?" she asked inquiringly. She rubbed her eyes, tired. It was midnight, the night of October 30th but technically Halloween morning. Hermione had approached her earlier in a bit of a crazed fashion talking about something or other-- she had been a big hungover and didn't remember what exactly. "She seemed a little... off, yesterday."
"No I didn't talk to her." Parvati glared at her sister with more malice than a lioness has when a human is moving in on her mate with a sexual agenda. "That bitch didn't talk to me after that beautiful night we had together." She let out a mousy sob as tears flooded her brown-colored cheeks.
Padma pat her on the back awkwardly, her mind elsewhere. Where had Hermione gone to? What had she said to her? Why had she seemed so... insane? A-ha! A thought came to her. She knew Filch had seen Hermione on her way out, too; in fact, he had probably be eavesdropping on their hurried conversation! She decided to find him and check with him quickly before going to sleep-- if he had any information about whether or not Hermione was in trouble, it would be worth it.
When Padma opened the door to Filch's office, the first thing she noticed was that it was painted blue, blue, electric blue. It was after that that she noticed Mrs. Norris licking her buddy's tiddlywinker. She would have fainted, but Filch, finally noticing her, lept up like a cancerous leper and started coughing his lungs out through his trachea.
"Umm-- wait. Stop it. Stop coughing," she asked. Filch continued heaving and stripping his lungs of their mucousy lining. "I said STOP COUGHING!" she shrieked, leaving her gasping for air. Filch shut up, timid as a castrated puppy. "Mr. Filch, I know this is out of line, but do you remember what Hermione said to me yesterday when she looked rushed?"
" I remember you were DRUNK, young lady!!" Filch tut-tuted at her.
Padma looked shyly at Filch, not expecting to have to deal with that particular aspect of their encounter quite so soon. "That was due to.. reasons," she tried to say confidently. Filch was busy trying to zip up his pants, but his greying pubic hairs kept getting caught. Padma noticed one was perhaps three feet long. "Anyway, what about Hermione?" she inquired like a tabloid journalist.
"I remember... I remember listening to your little conversation. Something about Flitwick, that insufferable know-it-all was probably talking to you about homework," he explained. Then, his facial expression changed from a cynical sneer to one of relevatory realization. "I... I do remember something strange." Padma listened closer. Filch continued. "She wasn't wearing a skirt, or underwear, or anything at all. Now that I think about it, that is a bit strange..." he trailed off. "Oh my god. She mentioned being kidnapped. I thought it was just some stupid history point-- maybe she was giving you a quick tidbit for studying. What if she was kidnapped to be sold into sexual slavery on the black market in some hellhole like China, or India, or... FRANCE!"
Padma fainted. Filch kicked her in the side a couple times with a fire prod and she finally came to. "You shall go to the Flitwick one's office," Filch said with the integrity of a two-year old nun. Padma nodded and sashayed down the corridor to her Head-of-House's lair. Knocking down the door with a simple thrusting movement, she leapt into the middle of a blue and green Georgia O'Keefe patterned paper rug.
"Flitwick probably printed this off the internet," she said aloud to herself. "Suspicious." She rummaged through the papers on his desks and bed-- his small, pram-like bed-- finding a variety of documents, from school papers to notes from students to letters from family to dissertations to ransom notes to recipes. Padma paused. "Wait. Ransom notes?" she asked herself, backtracking to look further into a piece of notebook paper with forboding words written thereupon in randomly sized magazine cut-out letters.
It read: "HERMY GRANGER WILL NEVER COME BACK UNLESS YOU TELL ME HOW TO GET TO THE SECRET LEVEL OF SUPERMARIO XIVLXC. LEAVE DIRECTIONS BETWEEN MADAME ROSEMERTA'S BOTTOM CHEEKS AND, SHOULD YOUR INSTRUCTIONS BE CORRECT, I SHALL RETURN HERMITTY INTACT"
Padma gasped. He had kidnapped Hermione! That was sick as fuck! Padma quickly formulated a plan in her head. She would have to find Flitwick's place of residence, and get someone else to go save Hermione. Of course! She rummaged through Flitwick's papers until she found his address on an envelope: "76 Harold Tea Square," she whispered to herself. She had to get this to Hermione's father as quickly as possible. Thankfully, they were on close terms, ever since Padma's father had died earlier that year. Hermione's father had been a great comforter during her rough months after his tragic death involving a suit of chain mail and a siberian tiger.
She snatched an owl from Flitwick's hatchery and quickly scribbled down all the details, addressing the note to "Pippy 'Longcockings' Granger". As the brownish yellowish bluish pinkish reddish purplish whitish polkadottish owl flew away with the note tied with a nice big bow around its leg, Padma desperately hoped Hermione was alright. It was wrong for her to be copulating with her sister's girlfriend, and boy did they screw like horny purple turtles in a frosty winter, but it felt so good. She missed Hermione already, but it was time for her to go back and smear curry corpulently all over her body for her sister to rub her labial lips in and shriek in pleasure at the spicy burning on her nipples.