Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. If I did, I'd be rolling around in my money all day, not caring to write fanfiction.
Disclaimer #2: I do not own Twilight. If I did, I'd be rolling around in my money all day, not caring to write more fanfiction.
Author's Note: I lost a bet. I am so, so sorry for this. Yet in a way, I'm kind of proud of it... in the sense of, say, a toddler feels proud for ruining an expensive painting with permanent markers and spaghetti.
Please forgive me.
ALSO I'm doing a nonlinear flow in which I pretend to skip chapters. It reduces my need of having to actually fill unnecessary gaps/soil the good name of Harry Potter where it is not needed. I know it's short but this is just something I'm going to write on the side when I need a break from/can't focus on "Fullmetal Lol."
Enjoy~
Chapter 4
Harry looked around the dorm room in disdain. Did they really expect him to share a room with four other boys? At least with the Dursleys he had had his own room.
"Hey Harry," said Ron, who had just entered the dorm room. "Want go down together for breakfast?"
"Um," Harry wasn't sure what to say. He wasn't feeling particularly hungry, but he supposed staying in this dorm all day would be just too depressing. "Sure." He dolefully followed Ron out the door.
God Ron is so embarrassing to be around, thought Harry as they walked together. He can't play Quidditch, he's terrible with girls, and he's a ginger too. I mean, what does Hermione see in him? Not that I'd be interested in her anyway- I don't care for dating Muggle borns- but still.
They arrived at the Great Hall, and Hermione saw them and gestured them to come sit next to her. He sat down between her and Ron, and then allowed himself a sigh. He knew the food wouldn't make him feel better about anything. Nothing would.
"So are you excited for tomorrow's Quidditch practice, Harry?" asked Seamus from across the table.
"Quidditch," said Harry noncommittally, rolling his eyes, "I mean, what's the point?"
Suddenly, Harry noticed someone across the hall. For the first time in ever, he felt his heart beat.
"Who is that?" he asked, indicating the silver-haired girl sitting at the Hufflepuff table.
"Oh that's Fleur," answered Ron conveniently. "They say she's part veela."
"Part veela," Harry repeated in rusty awe. As he watched her chatting, he couldn't help but notice how smooth and flowing her silver hair was, how high her cheekbones were, and how deep her blue eyes were. They were almost like giant, glittering sapphires. Her skin resembled porcelain, and as she laughed, he noticed how white and perfect her teeth were. And he could tell that when she stood up, she would be tall and willowy. Harry knew immediately that he would never be good enough for this otherworldly Venetian goddess, but he contented himself to watch her silently from the shadows for the rest of the school year.
Author's Note: What do you think? I tried to capture Bella's sense of superiority/lack of personality mixed with her immediate and unfounded dislike of everything that isn't a Cullenpire.
I kind of violated my rule of "Don't write an entire fic for the sake of making fun of something," but... yeah.
This fic is not meant to offend Twilight fans... only Twilight.