WARNING: This suddenly turned into a Twilight, Harry and Draco bashing fest about halfway in. There's language, major character death, so much crack, and oh, hell. It's really not funny at all. See Author's Note at bottom.

Chapter Two: In which: Harry wakes up in a bed that is not his own, has flirty time with Draco the Wonder Slu–Oh, sorry. I meant Veela.–, and (WARNING: SPOILER ALERT!) Neville gets cozy with the Dark Lord.

Harry gasped, and shot up straight. He looked around frantically. Where was he? Why couldn't he see anything?

Oh. Harry smacked himself on the forehead. "Silly me," he muttered. "I forgot that I've been wearing glasses for my entire life, and that I can only see with them on."

Harry made a mental note to get his vision checked, as he just realized that if Voldemort wanted to kill him, all he had to do was take off Harry's glasses, and watch him trip over sharp rocks until one would eventually slice an important vein.

He groped around blindly for his glasses, and was slightly surprised when someone handed them to him. Harry hadn't noticed that anyone was there.

He put them on, and immediately became even dizzier.

Oh. Harry smacked himself on the forehead. "Silly me," he muttered. "I forgot that the author got rid of my ugly glasses in the last chapter, to bring out my brilliant vermillion eyes even more. So technically, I should see just fine without them!"

He took them off, and was able to view the room in crystal clarity.

Ew, the Hospital Wing. Harry couldn't understand why they couldn't make it a nicer color than white. Really, it was after Labor Day.

Harry scanned the room, looking for any sign of Madam Pomfrey, and then noticed that someone was sitting five inches away from his face.

Gasp! It was Draco Malfoy! Who was smirking at him!

He stuttered out, "What- what could you possibly- why are you her- I mean, what do you think you're doing? How could you possibly think of killing yourself? Of course I want you to live forever!"

Draco slapped him gently. "Wrong insipid character rant, Harry."

Harry flushed. "Sorry. Sometimes, I just get really into a role, and I want to continue it, y'know? Anyway, I meant, what the hell are you doing here, Malfoy?"

Malfoy looked offended. "My true love, my soul mate who I shall live with forever, my muffin of eternal happiness faints on the train, and I don't get to watch over his death bed while looking tragic and beautiful? What do you think I'm doing here? By the way, I'm immortal."

Harry was distracted. "Really? Do you sparkle?"

Malfoy answered in the negative.

Harry looked crestfallen. Pouting, he asked, "Well, what can you do?"

Malfoy was thoughtful, and scratched his head thoughtfully. "Well, I can magically turn into a swan at will, I can grow wings but can't fly, I could make you pregnant if you were a woman, I can sing along to all three High School Musicals, and I'm learning how to play the harmonica. By the way, I'm Slytherin's heir and the great-great-great-great-great-great-great-cousin-twice-removed of Merlin."

Harry refused to be sidetracked. "Well, your qualifications are substandard at best, but you have shiny hair, so I suppose you'll do! Congratulations! You're my mate!"

Draco shrieked, and leapt forward to girlishly hug him, when Harry put up a finger. "On one condition, Draco. You help me put up my life-size cardboard cutout of Cedric Diggory."

Draco smiled. "Of course, Harry! I've even got some glitter that we can throw at him!"

Then the shrieking and the girlish hugging commenced. It went on for quite a long time, and could've gone on for, say four mind-numbingly long books and two movies, but Neville walked in and ruined it.

"Hey guys," Neville said hopefully but hesitantly.

Draco squealed in horror, and grabbed fearfully onto Harry's arm. "Salazar's pants! It's a talking Flobberworm!"

Harry whipped out his wand, and murmured soothingly to Draco, "Don't worry. I won't let the fat and ugly thing scar your precious widdle eyes. I love you, my snuggle-manticore."

Neville exploded. "Oh, for fuck's sake! Avada Kedavra!"

And so they died, locked in the arms of love's embrace, just as it was about to give them a noogie.

Neville walked outside and set the castle on fire. Everyone in it died.

Voldemort came to watch the light show, and sidled up next to Neville.

"You know, I'm in the market for a highly unstable and self-destructive mate," he whispered suggestively.

Neville blinked at him owlishly. "You don't find my fat and zitty form incredibly repulsive?" he asked wonderingly.

Voldemort gasped. "Of course not! I think you're the sexiest thing I've seen since Lucius handed me a mirror after I regained a body!"

And they kissed sweetly. Or at least they tried. It was rather hard with Voldemort's lack of lips and whatnot, but they would make it work.

And they lived happily ever after.

FIN.

A/N: -winces- Well, that was a train wreck, wasn't it? I had written this back in September and forgotten about it, and then someone reminded me that I hadn't posted it. So, I'm posting it, because I don't care enough about this story to write a good chapter. Sorry. :]

Yes, all the Americanisms in here are on purpose, because it really bothers me when authors do this (I'm being a hypocrite, by the way. I might've done this in an earlier story.), when their story is supposed to be set in Britain.

Yes, I know halfway through Draco takes on all the characteristics of a Veela, but this has a point! I read a story once, where in the first chapter, Draco was the Veela, and somewhere in between the first and second chapter, Harry had magically transformed into a Veela and Draco was now his Mate. Miracles do happen.

I didn't remember the Twilight bashing being quite so noticeable… And so crude. Eh, well. Someone might like this.

I fully give you permission to flame me. But go easy on me, yeah?