AN: OK. So I've not posted anything new in over...SIX MONTHS?! -:wtf face:- Please forgive me! So here's a very short piece I rustled up in an attempt to get my Muse going again. This is decidedly crack-ish. Do not expect it to make any sense. Seriously. You've been warned.
"Alright. Ok." Bam, bam, bam! "Settle down. Settle down, ladies!"
The noisy chatter slowly began to subside. A laugh was cut short. A last minute cough was issued. Finally, silence reigned as many pairs of incredibly similar big brown eyes stared up at the podium.
Standing behind the aforementioned podium was a slim, bushy-haired young woman. She had a determined mouth, a pert nose, and sharp eyes that were as brown and as intelligent as the many pairs staring up at her. She was dressed very simply: a flattering sage-coloured jumper, a pair of black jeans and sensible black shoes. As she held a roll of parchment in her hands, one could easily identify a very plain gold band upon her left ring finger. It was the only piece of jewellery she sported.
"My name is Hermione Weasley née Granger," said the young woman at the podium, her voice enhanced by a Sonorus charm, "and I've gathered you all here today to address a matter of great importance."
"Whatever, Ron-lover, just get on with it," hollered another slim, bushy-haired young woman who looked identical to the one standing at the podium. She was sitting near the back of the large auditorium in which the large group of women occupied. "We haven't got all day."
The other women sniggered.
Hermione Weasley, however, did not. She frowned. "And you are?"
The woman stood. Her chin looking pointy and stubborn, she said in snooty tones:
"My name is Hermione Potter. I'm Harry Potter's wife."
"Ugh. Typical," scoffed another slim young woman. However, her hair was not bushy like the others. Hers was straightened and shiny.
"What's that supposed to mean?" demanded Hermione Potter.
"I mean that it's Hermiones like you that give the rest of us a bad name. The hero-loving types. Useless damsels in distress. Can you be any more cliché?"
"I am not a cliché, you ignorant cow!" retorted Hermione Potter. "I am canon! Canon I tell you!"
"Excuse me?" interjected Hermione Weasley. "If I remember correctly, I am canon. After all, the epilogue specifically mentioned my being married to Ron and – "
"Oh, why don't you just shut up?" spoke the straightened-headed one. "And you're so proud of being a Weasley? Despicable!"
"Hey!" cried yet another slim young woman in indignation. Her hair was shorter than the rest, but just as curly. "I'll have you know that there's absolutely nothing wrong with being married to a Weasley! I'm Hermione Weasley – Charlie's wife, by the way – and I'll have you know, the Weasley men are kind, loyal, respectful – "
"And poor," supplied yet another woman with soft wavy hair. "Thank Merlin I married Draco. I've not a worry in the world when it comes to money."
"So true," agreed the woman with straightened hair. "I've never been impressed by money, but being married to Lucius certainly has its perks."
"But I bet all those perks are gone when in the bedroom, I suppose?" taunted a woman sporting a high, youthful ponytail. How she'd managed all that hair into a hair-tie silently baffled the other women. "I mean, he's so old. He's, what? Twenty-five years your senior? Disgusting."
"Age is just a number," said another woman wearing long, flowing black robes. "It has no authority on love."
"Ten galleons says she's Snape's wife?" hollered the woman with the impossible hair-tie. A few women laughed.
"And whose wife are you, anyway?" challenged Hermione Weasley, wife of Ron.
"I got me the best one, girls. Sirius Black!" answered hair-tie woman.
"That's impossible," said Hermione Snape in condescending tones. "Sirius Black is dead. It's plainly stated at the end of Book Five that – "
"Have you never heard of Alternate Universe? God. Some people are just absolute sticks in the mud…"
"Now, now, no need for insults here," placated another woman with a low ponytail. Her thick hair pulled low at the back of her neck into a hair clasp. "We're all here for a purpose, aren't we, Hermione Weasley? Now, why don't we all just listen to what she has to say and – "
"Who died and made you teacher?" snapped Hermione Malfoy, wife of Draco. "You're not the boss of me. I'm the boss of me."
"That's redundant and unnecessary," said Hermione Snape.
"Be quiet, bat-lover," ordered Hermione Black.
Hermione Malfoy, wife of Lucius frowned at the woman. "You needn't be so uncouth."
"I'll do whatever the hell damn frig I like, gold-digger," retorted Hermione Black.
"Someone's being a bit OOC…" taunted Hermione Weasley, wife of Charlie.
"You're all OOC!" proclaimed Hermione Weasley, wife of Ron. "After all, I'm the true Hermione – "
"Only because J.K. Rowling didn't want to make the books a cliché, you twit! I'll have you know that the original ending was me riding off into the sunset with Harry. With Harry! But you ruined it! You ruined everything! I hate you for existing!"
And so, an argument ensued between all the Hermiones that led to a physical fight. There was much face-slapping, hair-pulling, and you-stupid-tart!-throwing. This went on for a considerable amount of time before they all remembered they were witches, and hashed it out the old fashioned way with spells and jinxes. Eventually, after half an hour of fighting and yet no losers – since they were all very capable witches – Hermione Black complained that she was hungry, Hermione Snape mentioned a fantastic bar just down the street, Hermione Weasley, wife of Ron asked if it was cheap because she was running low on cash this month, Hermione Malfoy, wife of Lucius announced she'd pay for everyone, and so, they all went and got themselves nice and tipsy with rounds of cocktails.
The End