A\N: My… I guess I stumbled upon another gem. Whoof, DEFINITELY need to do some serious scrubbing of that last chapter, especially around the end. By the way, if anybody wants to Beta my work, feel free. The rough drafts are posted (I told you it was a drabble set).
Slight Edit: Changed the conversation between Harry and Hermione to better reflect Harry's Satanic beliefs. That and it sounds a lot less hippy. Bah, hippies.
o.O
Vernon found himself quite impressed with the stately Granger residence. He lead Harry up to the main doorway and pressed the ringer. They shared an appreciative nod at the echoing organ notes that followed. "See boy? Sometimes there's a proper bit of merit to a cliché." Vernon lectured happily. Harry nodded, having reached the same conclusion. The door opened, revealing the same gent Vernon'd met at he bar. The walk in, the man giving a short tour of the grounds, pointing out this or that award or spot of art. Vernon and Harry made appropriate noises of appreciation.
Finally they found themselves in a comfortable living room. Vernon raised a single eyebrow at Dr. Granger, who nodded. "My daughter's room is up the stairs and three doors to the left," Dr. Granger said to Harry. "Seeing as the two of you will be classmates soon, why don't you run up and introduce yourself? Who knows, might get started early making friends."
Harry rolled his eyes and looked straight at his father. "You're trying to protect me again, aren't you?"
Vernon grinned, glad that his boy was no dupe. "That's right Harry, and we're sending you out of the room to do it." He smiled at his boy's indignant expression. "Here now son, protecting their boys is what good father's do. I'm not going to have many more chances, seeing as you're leaving in a few weeks. Let your old man take the burden this time."
Harry broke out into a wide smile, and quickly gave his father a hug. "All right, Dad, but you better not try and spin a line of shite later."
"That's my boy. Now go run along and maybe do something about that thing I told you about earlier."
Harry nodded, and walked out of the room. As soon as Vernon heard Harry's footsteps going up the stairs, he motioned for Dr. Granger to tell him everything. It wasn't long before the pair broke out the Scotch. It was going to be a long night.
o.O
Harry found the door to Hermione's room, and politely knocked. He heard a the sounds of somebody bustling about behind the door, before it opened to reveal a bushy-haired buck-tooth girl dressed up in the most unflattering clothing possible. Harry barely managed to repress his shudder. The situation was far worse than he'd suspected. "Hi, I'm Harry Dursley. My father wanted to talk about Hogwarts with your father, and suggested that perhaps we could get to know each other early."
Hermione took in the boy. He was dressed in black, positively dripping with satanic jewelry and his shirt was covered in obscene phrases. She sniffed a bit in disdain. Harry thought he might have thrown up a little in his mouth.
"Well, come in then," she said imperiously, holding the door for him. He meandered into the room, taking in bookcase after bookcase.
'Hmmm… Neitze, Joyce, Goethe, Limbaugh… wait, Limbaugh?!'
"So, Harry, I've heard stories about you from my father." She made it sound like that was a bad thing. "Did you really manage to convince twenty high-school girls to sacrifice their virginity in your name?" She definitely made that sound like a bad thing.
Still, Harry couldn't help beaming in pride. "Yup! Still a bit amazed at that one myself!" Hermione crossed her arms under her breasts, turned her head, and sniffed.
'What. The. Bloody. Hell. Is. Wrong. With. Her.' He thought, sickened. Trying to come up with something positive to say, and failing, he started looking about the room. His eyes fell upon a large poster of Margaret Thatcher's glowering face given a spot of honor on her wall.
"No. No no no no no," Harry mumbled out, disgusted.
"What?" Hermione asked sharply.
"The evil white-lady afro just threatened to eat me. Take it down."
"What? No! Honestly, Harry, you need to show the Prime Minister the respect due her station!"
Harry'd heard enough. "Respect due her station? Didn't your parents raise you better than that?"
Hermione flushed. "Don't bring my parents into this!"
"Well I don't see why not! That woman," he spat out, "is a threat to your parents simply because they don't follow her mindless morality. What ever possessed you to start acting this way? Don't tell me you thought that being bossy and kowtowing to authority would actually impress your classmates."
"My classmates are nothing but immature children," she retorted spitefully.
Harry shook his head. "So, it's your teachers then. You chose impressing the mindless parrots of the Socialist State over the two people who love you and gave you life? Were you high?"
"Mr. Dursley!" Hermione hollered out, utterly affronted.
Harry walked over to her closet and flung open the doors.
"What do you think you are doing?" She screeched.
He started pulling her dowdy, conservative clothing off of the hangers and tossing them onto the floor. "I'm seeing just how bad off you are, and how long you've been there."
"You, you can't do that!"
"Hmm? Oh, right. No, sorry, yes I can," he said, tossing a particularly horrid article of clothing over his shoulder. "You see, you've decided to become a mindless sheep, and now you're getting fleeced. A pity, I'd hoped to have found a friend, but I suppose I could always use a slave."
"What?!"
"Will to Power, Hermione. I have it, you don't. Ergo, it is your moral imperative to do as I say." His eyes lit up as he finally found some proper outfits, all black lace and Victorian corsets. "Not so far gone," he mumbled to himself. He swept past the closet towards her bookshelf. He began randomly tossing books onto the pile of clothing. "No, don't need that, crap, crap, crap."
"YOU STOP THAT RIGHT NOW!" Hermione screamed. Harry grinned. He'd found her weak point. His eye's lit up at the sight of an original printing of Joyce's works. He laid his hand on it.
"Oh, this is entirely too good for you. Hmmm… oh, I've read it. Oh well, always need some kindling for the fire." He said, pulling the book from its perch.
"You… you…" Hermione sputtered.
"Now now, Candi, don't get angry. You know that anger is bad. Smile and nod and shut the hell up. Know your role, and all that." He said jauntily.
Hermione snapped. She flung herself at Harry, and floored him with a surprisingly painful right hook. "YOU FUCKING BASTARD! YOU WORTHLESS PIECE OF DOG SHITE! I BET YOU TEABAG DONKEYS WHILE SUCKING COCK FOR A PENCE ON THE CORNER!"
"Good!" Harry exclaimed, "Good! Hate me! Don't take this shit!"
Hermione was past the point of reason. "YOU FUCKING ARSEHAT! I'LL FLENSE THE SKIN FROM YOUR SCREAMING BODY BEFORE I HAVE YOUR STILL TWITCHING CORPSE DEFILED BY DEMONS!"
"Oh God I think I just had my first erection," Harry said in awe.
"I'LL TEAR OFF YOUR BALLS AND WEAR YOUR FUCKING HEAD AS A HAT YOU SHEEP BUGGERING COMMUNIST!"
Harry smiled happily and stood, brushing himself off. "There now luv, don't you feel better?"
Hermione blinked. She nodded shyly.
"Come on, let's clean this mess up. Just think, there's a whole new school full of unsuspecting plebes. Do you really want to be one of them? Are you really so pathetic that you crave the hollow compliments of disinterested authority over the genuine love of your parents?" Hermione shook her head. "Good, good! Now, first things first: Get that ugly bitch off of your wall. I'm serious. I think her afro wants to eat me."
Hermione grinned, walked over to the poster, and tore it down with relish. Harry smiled. "Friends, then?" Hermione nodded.
The couple busily set about removing all traces of Hermione's tragic mistake.
"You really do throw yourself one hundred percent into things, don't you?" Harry asked. Hermione blushed, and nodded.
"I suppose I do," she said, somewhat ashamed.
"Bah, stop that! Guilt is for the Catholics. Come on; let me hear you say it." Harry said.
Hermione blushed. "But I feel silly…"
"That's the point!" Harry said. "You don't accept it! Prove to yourself you that aren't their little bitch! Say it, revel in it, and spit in their faces! Glorify in your own godhood!"
Hermione grinned. "Hail Satan."
Harry shook his head. "Pathetic. Why, I'd almost think you actually believed he was real."
Hermione growled. "Ave Satanis!" She shouted.
"Ave Satanis! Welcome back!" Harry casually waived his hand at the pile of Conservative Propaganda and dowdy dresses. "I think we need to give this whole mess a proper ending. Look, get dressed in something respectable, and we'll put this behind you for good."
Hermione grinned. "Expecting to watch?"
Harry blinked. "Um, look, the morality may be willing, but the flesh is prepubescent."
Hermione's eyes flashed and she shoved her hand down Harry's trousers. Harry let out an 'eep!' in surprise. Feeling nothing but smooth skin, she hummed thoughtfully before removing her hand. "I suppose you're right. Out you go then!"
Harry blinked as she bustled him out the door. "Dear Satan she really does fling herself into it, doesn't she?" He smiled. He'd found a friend.
He casually walked down the stair and poked his head into the room where his father and Dr. Granger were plotting. "Excuse me, Dr. Granger? Do you have a fire-pit we can borrow for a spot?"
Dr. Granger blinked. A moment later Hermione appeared next to Harry, wearing her black petticoats, lace dress, and leather thigh-highs. Dr. Granger blinked again. "Well, I suppose there's always the barbeque pit…"
"Thanks Daddy!" Hermione said before running back up the stairs. "Harry, mind giving me a hand? This shite is heavy." She yelled down. Harry grinned and raced up to help her.
"Well I'll be damned," Dr. Granger said. "That boy's amazing."
Vernon puffed up with paternal pride. "Ain't he though? Makes me proud to be his father, he does."
A\N: And I haven't even gotten them to Diagon Alley yet. Oh dear. This is gonna be fun.
