A/N: Okay, I've been wanting to do a song-fic for a while now, and plus i had a stupid case of writers block, so this is what came out. I've been thinking about making this a series, i already have a bunch of ideas about songs, and i think it would be fun to write about how they preform them. This is basically plotless, but i also have no idea how it will end. Maybe I'll just keep adding songs until FF.net forces me to stop, because the stories too big. Anyway. Remember, this is the result of wanting to do a songfic, writers block, and the fact that i left my CD collection in the car, and my dad took it to L. Tahoe w/my cousins, and i had to take some of my sister's CD's on the D.C. trip. Anyway, hope someone finds this slightly humorus, because otherwise it's just wasting space. LOve, Dragonessa Smith
Disclaimer: Really, if you don't know enough about the Harry Potter books and Shania Twain music to distinguish what's mine and what's theirs, you shouldn't be reading this in the first place.
Harry and Ron walked into The Three Broomsticks, barely noticing the sign in the window that proclaimed: Amateur Night every Saturday- 9-Midnight. Hermione had asked them to come. She had also asked the supreme sacrifice from them: For them to sit with Draco.
"Did Hermione tell you why she wanted us to be here?" Draco asked.
"No." Came the answer from Harry. "She just said to make sure we sit at a table in the way front."
"Hey, there's Ginny with the others." Ron pointed out. "Maybe they know."
But the others (which included all of Gryffindor and a lot of other people from Hogwarts) wouldn't answer any of their questions. They would only say "We walked in on her practicing once. We thought she'd gone nuts."
"So she's going to perform." Ron reasoned as they made their way to a table right in front of the stage.
"Herm? Sing? Maybe we should get ear plugs?" Harry suggested nervously. But before he could get up, Madame Rosemerta was already introducing her.
"Our first act tonight is none other than Hermione Granger!" The crowd clapped enthusiastically. "Herm will be singing the song "That Don't Impress Me Much" by Shania Twain." Madame Rosemerta gave the crowd a shrug. "You're guess is as good as mine. He-e-e-e-res Hermione!"
Instantly a twangy guitar beat filled the pub. Hermione walked out, complete with a plaid shirt, cowboy hat, and cowboy boots. She started tapping her foot along to the music, holding the microphone in her right hand. While the guitar music went on, she muttered a few "Yeahs" and sort of got into the rhythm of the music. Suddenly, the others pushed Ron up onto the stage. When he was up there, Hermione started to sing:
I've known a few wizards who thought they were pretty smart
But you've got being right down to an art.
You think you're a genius-You drive me up the wall
You're a regular original, a know-it-all
With that, she pushed him off the stage. Ron, stunned, fell back, almost missing his chair. The crowd was roaring with laughter as she continued.
Oh-oo-oh, you think your special
Oh-oo-oh, you think your something else.
Okay, so you're a chess master.
That don't impress me much.
So you got the brain but have you got the touch
Don't get me wrong, yeah, I think you're all right
But that won't keep me warm in the middle of the night.
That don't impress me much.
Draco, who had been sitting there feeling sorry for poor Ron, found himself being pulled onto the stage by the guys now. Hermione started singing again.
I never knew a guy who carried a mirror in his pocket
And a comb up his sleeve-just in case
And all that extra hold gel in your hair oughtta lock it
'Cause Heaven forbid it should fall out of place.
He exited the stage in the same manor as Ron, but Draco did miss his seat. Hermione didn't notice, as she was reveling in the cheers from the crowd.
Oh-oo-oh, you think your special
Oh-oo-oh, you think your something else.
Okay, so your Gilderoy Lockhart
That don't impress me much
So you got the looks but have you got the touch
Don't get me wrong, yeah I think you're all right
But that won't keep me warm in the middle of the night
That don't impress me much
Harry, sensing he was next, tried to break for the door, but was stopped by several people in the crowd who wanted to see the rest of the show. He was passed along over the crowd until he was on the stage.
You're one of those guys who likes to shine his machine
You make me take of my shoes before you let me get on
I can't believe you kiss your broom goodnight
C'mon baby tell me-you must be joking right?
Harry was accidentally pushed so hard he fell onto the table. No one was watching though, because Hermione was singing again
Oh-oo-oh, you think your special
Oh-oo-oh, you think your something else.
Okay, so you've got a Firebolt
That don't impress me much
So you got the moves but have you got the touch
Don't get me wrong, yeah, I think you're alright
But that won't keep me warm in the middle of the night
That don't impress me much
You think you're cool but have you got the touch
Don't get me wrong, yeah I think you're alright
But that won't keep me warm on the long, cold, lonely night
That don't impress me much
The guitarist went off into a big riff, and Hermione started talking.
Okay, so what do you think you're Elvis or something...
The guitarist nodded vigorously and grinned. Hermione actually put up her hand and rolled her eyes.
Whatever
That don't impress me
As she finished, the crowd burst into applause. Harry, Ron, and Draco slunk out the door, as everyone pointed and laughed at them.
"Anyone want to challenge Hermione?" Madame Rosemerta called into the crowd. "Anyone-" The noise from the pub stopped when the door slammed shut.
"We have to get her back for that." Ron said darkly.
"But how?" Draco said.
"Listen, I think I have an idea. But we'll need a lot of cooperation, okay? No fighting, right Ron? Right Draco?" Harry said. They nodded grudgingly. The three huddled in the darkness as Harry explained his plan.
Back inside, Harry searched for a familiar set of high heels.
"Madame Rosemerta?" He asked, tugging on her sleeve. "We have a request to make."
Disclaimer: Really, if you don't know enough about the Harry Potter books and Shania Twain music to distinguish what's mine and what's theirs, you shouldn't be reading this in the first place.
Harry and Ron walked into The Three Broomsticks, barely noticing the sign in the window that proclaimed: Amateur Night every Saturday- 9-Midnight. Hermione had asked them to come. She had also asked the supreme sacrifice from them: For them to sit with Draco.
"Did Hermione tell you why she wanted us to be here?" Draco asked.
"No." Came the answer from Harry. "She just said to make sure we sit at a table in the way front."
"Hey, there's Ginny with the others." Ron pointed out. "Maybe they know."
But the others (which included all of Gryffindor and a lot of other people from Hogwarts) wouldn't answer any of their questions. They would only say "We walked in on her practicing once. We thought she'd gone nuts."
"So she's going to perform." Ron reasoned as they made their way to a table right in front of the stage.
"Herm? Sing? Maybe we should get ear plugs?" Harry suggested nervously. But before he could get up, Madame Rosemerta was already introducing her.
"Our first act tonight is none other than Hermione Granger!" The crowd clapped enthusiastically. "Herm will be singing the song "That Don't Impress Me Much" by Shania Twain." Madame Rosemerta gave the crowd a shrug. "You're guess is as good as mine. He-e-e-e-res Hermione!"
Instantly a twangy guitar beat filled the pub. Hermione walked out, complete with a plaid shirt, cowboy hat, and cowboy boots. She started tapping her foot along to the music, holding the microphone in her right hand. While the guitar music went on, she muttered a few "Yeahs" and sort of got into the rhythm of the music. Suddenly, the others pushed Ron up onto the stage. When he was up there, Hermione started to sing:
I've known a few wizards who thought they were pretty smart
But you've got being right down to an art.
You think you're a genius-You drive me up the wall
You're a regular original, a know-it-all
With that, she pushed him off the stage. Ron, stunned, fell back, almost missing his chair. The crowd was roaring with laughter as she continued.
Oh-oo-oh, you think your special
Oh-oo-oh, you think your something else.
Okay, so you're a chess master.
That don't impress me much.
So you got the brain but have you got the touch
Don't get me wrong, yeah, I think you're all right
But that won't keep me warm in the middle of the night.
That don't impress me much.
Draco, who had been sitting there feeling sorry for poor Ron, found himself being pulled onto the stage by the guys now. Hermione started singing again.
I never knew a guy who carried a mirror in his pocket
And a comb up his sleeve-just in case
And all that extra hold gel in your hair oughtta lock it
'Cause Heaven forbid it should fall out of place.
He exited the stage in the same manor as Ron, but Draco did miss his seat. Hermione didn't notice, as she was reveling in the cheers from the crowd.
Oh-oo-oh, you think your special
Oh-oo-oh, you think your something else.
Okay, so your Gilderoy Lockhart
That don't impress me much
So you got the looks but have you got the touch
Don't get me wrong, yeah I think you're all right
But that won't keep me warm in the middle of the night
That don't impress me much
Harry, sensing he was next, tried to break for the door, but was stopped by several people in the crowd who wanted to see the rest of the show. He was passed along over the crowd until he was on the stage.
You're one of those guys who likes to shine his machine
You make me take of my shoes before you let me get on
I can't believe you kiss your broom goodnight
C'mon baby tell me-you must be joking right?
Harry was accidentally pushed so hard he fell onto the table. No one was watching though, because Hermione was singing again
Oh-oo-oh, you think your special
Oh-oo-oh, you think your something else.
Okay, so you've got a Firebolt
That don't impress me much
So you got the moves but have you got the touch
Don't get me wrong, yeah, I think you're alright
But that won't keep me warm in the middle of the night
That don't impress me much
You think you're cool but have you got the touch
Don't get me wrong, yeah I think you're alright
But that won't keep me warm on the long, cold, lonely night
That don't impress me much
The guitarist went off into a big riff, and Hermione started talking.
Okay, so what do you think you're Elvis or something...
The guitarist nodded vigorously and grinned. Hermione actually put up her hand and rolled her eyes.
Whatever
That don't impress me
As she finished, the crowd burst into applause. Harry, Ron, and Draco slunk out the door, as everyone pointed and laughed at them.
"Anyone want to challenge Hermione?" Madame Rosemerta called into the crowd. "Anyone-" The noise from the pub stopped when the door slammed shut.
"We have to get her back for that." Ron said darkly.
"But how?" Draco said.
"Listen, I think I have an idea. But we'll need a lot of cooperation, okay? No fighting, right Ron? Right Draco?" Harry said. They nodded grudgingly. The three huddled in the darkness as Harry explained his plan.
Back inside, Harry searched for a familiar set of high heels.
"Madame Rosemerta?" He asked, tugging on her sleeve. "We have a request to make."