A/n: This is a story that follows a very vague plotline. I came up with this in the early EARLY morning (around midnight) while I was suffering from lack of sleep. Due to its immature manner, I feel it is in my best interest not to tell you my age. If the latin is not right then don't blame me. Just give me the correct translation or something.
Thank you to anyone who assisted me in ghetto type slang for which I have no talent for.
Disclaimer: I do not own any Harry Potter characters or recognizable popular subjects in this work of fanfiction. These products are property of their respectable owners. I also had assistance with my translations of anything except English from:
Harry Potter extremus theca of inconcinnus locus [and the extreme case of awkward situations
He hadn't expected to be turned down so quickly; or so many times! Truth be told, with how positive his popularity had been lately, he could have only assumed ONE girl in his age range would want to go dancing with him.
Harry Potter; the boy who lived; Quiddich Genius; Potter; Potty. Call him what you want- okay, maybe not that last one. But he had street cred non-the-less! He was the one who'd been able to combat one of the most powerful wizards and live! He should be able to get a bloody girl!!
Harry gritted his teeth and showed his Charms supplies back into his bag. Sitting with them looking up at him while he pouted wasn't helping.
Leaning back in his chair, he crossed his arms and frowned up at the ceiling where Neville's inflated backgammon board drifted about lazily, emitting a soothing humming close to that of a veela.
It was nearing the end of fall in the land that had so erotically been regarded as Hogwarts. Soon, white flakes of frozen water – Fred and George were gone so the entire of the school was relieved to be able to touch white flakes without receiving a drug test- would be falling and couples would be preparing for a most spectacular event.
The 197th annual Hogwarts pole dancing contest!!!!!
No. Excuse me. That was a forgivable mistake that I would like to blame Microsoft word's spell check on. If this state were true, however, Harry wouldn't need to be shot down by women. In fact! He could just flaunt his fame and money, and the bitches would be all up in his jockstrap along with a case of the clap.
No. The time was nearing for a wonderfully elegant event, the likes of which the Yule Ball could not compete; an event excluding Romanians and the French. A time where awkward movements would be accompanied by remixes of old holiday songs to create a beautiful visual. !!Aparatoso Navidad Partida y Burdel!!(a/n: find a translator, it's funnier that way)
It had only been announced the previous week that, before anyone choosing to return home for the holidays was allowed, a stress relieving get together would be arranged. Rumor had it that it was a dance.
Of course, Hermione had tried to dispel the rumors.
"' Just ignore them," she had stated with a presumptuous 'hmph'. "' Ron and I – well if Ron would sow up for the meetings- haven't heard anything from the Headmaster or Headmistress and we're Prefects!! I don't see why you're troubling yourself anyway when you have a Potions essay to finish!!'"
And, if this had been one of those true to friendship flashbacks where good times roll by in a montage of black and white, Ron would have piped in with a snide remark and Hermione- having already refused to do his essay- would do Ron and his essays while discussing S.P.E.W.
But it wasn't.
It was just Harry and Hermione.
No piping in from Ron.
He was busy sticking his pipe in Luna Lovegood.
Harry sighed heavily. He was on the verge of asking Professour Flitwick for extra credit work to distract himself from his poontang-less existence when a thought occurred to him.
Ron had a date to Aparatoso Navidad Partida y Burdel. (a/n: we'll call it. A.N.P.E.B because the y sounds like an e.)
Hermione, if she wanted to, could get with Neville-"' I have to study for my exams!!"'—Hermione would then go off in a huff then show up spectacularly.
Ginny had Collin.
He would die a virgin.
Assuming he died before New Years.
" What's with the long face, Potty? Or were you just born that way?"
Harry sighed so heavily that it was like a half-gallon of whole milk was attached to his tonsils. Turning his head slowly, he faced his nemesis, Draco Dormiens--- Draco Malfoy.
" Hello, Malfoy." He had no energy; he was too down in the diapers.
Malfoy seemed taken aback. Quiet for a moment, he seemed to be scraping away brain cells in an effort to find a usable retort. Long in the face?! HA! He needs to up his cred, yo. But it was too difficult with Harry's ' I'm too emo to care' attitude of the week.
" Oh." Malfoy shrugged. No one of importance who would mention his lack of life scarring slander was around- a.k.a the Slytherine House- so it would be okay to let it slide fro now. He didn't even know why he was there, seeing as either the Professour or non-important background characters number 12,13 and 57 weren't either. Shouldn't he be in DADA this period?
For a while, Draco relaxed his shoulders and took a seat near Harry- not too close, no telling where a Potty has been, yah know.
" No date for the dance, eh Potter?" Draco hated sitting in silence unless it was with a fucking h, o, double tadpole girl with a man voice who wanted to talk about her day or make out.
" Go away, Malfoy."
Malfoy raised a newly waxed, pale blonde eyebrow. Brushing stray strands of hair from his face he cuckled.(a/n: my word!)
" That only gives the truth away, buttmunch."
Harry's ears prickled. (a/n: I'm hungry)
" That's a new one," he commented dully.
Although very familiar. A black and white montage of Dudley sitting on Harry's head, farting the Macarena while shouting: " Buttmuncher! Buttmuncher!!" with background music from the Karate Kid soundtrack flashed through Harry's mind.
" Your mother!!" Draco said huffily.
" MR. MIYAG--- I mean Mr. Malfoy!!!"
Draco jumped out of his pants in surprise as Professour Flitwick rounded on them.
" Wooh!!" Someone cheered.
" Oh baby!!" Harry peered over Draco's shoulder as Seamus made a very crude attempt to mime ' let's get it on!'.
" I'm so glad you and Mr. Potter have decided to communicate civilly," Professour Flitwick squeaked. " And seeing as you're both finished with today's lesson plan, I have an extra credit task that would require the both of you."
" Yes Professour," Harry and Draco said in annoyed unison.
Professour Flitwick coughed as he waddled to his desk followed by the two horny teens.
Climbing onto a teetering pile of signed copies of ' Why do Men have Nipples?' he turned to face the boys.
" I want the both of you to beat off----"
Where are Harry and Draco going? What happened to Draco's pants? Why do men have nipples?!?!? Some of this and more may be answered in the distant pants—I mean past!
A/n: Hello there. So this is the end of the first chapter. Did you get weirded out by my not so funny late night humor?? Well screw you then!!! No I'm just kidding, I love yah.
Hope you got a life changing lesson from this