HAPPY HALLOWEEN! Wow, you guys don't know how hard it was to write this with my doorbell ringing every other second—wait, there it goes—I hope there's still some candy left by the end of the night…

That Loser

Chapter 37: Applesauce

The loud screech of a barn owl made the students at Gryffindor Table look up, watching the majestic bird soar purposely towards them, an air of powerful attentiveness at its task.

The loud screech of a ruffled owl losing altitude caused the Gryffindor students to point and laugh as it dive-bombed into Ron's morning applesauce.

"CAN'T I HAVE ANYTHING?" He cried, an empty spoon held sadly aloft without applesauce filling its sad, sad, void.

The heartbreak of that unfilledness-ness, was a tragic sight, oh so soon on that breaking dawn, that until now had been a promising day. Filled with joy and tribulation and applesauce—

"—Ron, stop lamenting your breakfast, and save Errol from drowning."

The fore mentioned Weasley child grumbled and scooped the ragged owl out from his bowl, pounded him against the side of table to unstick any remaining food fragments, and sat him beside Harry's plate.

Harry glared, clutching his bacon closer to his chest. "Mine."

Hermione rolled her eyes, untied the parcel from the elderly owl and gave it a push in the right direction. It fell off the table with a thump.

"I GOT SOMETHING?" Ron hurled his metal spoon promptly away from him (which happened to concuss a little first year) and ripped the package from Hermione's hands.

"What is it?" Harry mumbled his mouth half full with bacon as bits of cardboard flew past him from Ron's eager gift unwrapping.

"It's a—it's a—" He paused, holding the item up and looking at it questionably. Looking at its front, back…sideways, upside down, inside out.

A repulsive smell drifted toward them, and Hermione, wide-eyed, pulled off her shiny black boots and zipped them in her book bag.

A head popped up from under the table, wearing a dirty sock hat. "It must be a ceremonial robe, master." The hobo guessed.

Hermione smiled hesitantly, trying not to breath through her nose. "Oh look Harry, Ron's…friend is back…how…nice to see you again."

The reeking human smiled at her, then offered her her own package. "And your encased-diamond banana, as you asked for."

Hermione too tucked this away and laughed feebly. "You completed your mission so fast…how…resourceful…."

Harry leaned over and hissed angrily in her ear. "I thought you said there was no such thing as a diamond banana!"

"There isn't!" She insisted, as the hobo and Ron chatted amiably.

"—A ceremonial robe, you say?" Ron questioned his little serf, holding the molding, lacey, mauve dress aloft.

"Oh, aye." The hobo nodded eagerly, bits of dirt spraying the surrounding students. "The masters of thine school must have decided to honor your brilliance, sire!"

"Frigging A!—Uh," Ron paused, coughed and reverted back to British English. "BLOODY BRILLIANT!"

Harry leaned once more towards Hermione. "Did Ron just say Friggin' A?"

Hermione narrowed her eyes and nodded slowly, all the while glaring at the Weasley boy as he pranced around showing off his dres—robe. "I suspect the author is confused."

"—THAT'S RIGHT, YOU MERE LOWLY PEASENTS! BOW DOWN TO ME! I AM TO BE HONORED ABOVE ALL YOU TWITS! AND THERE WILL BE APPLESAUCE! OH, YES! APPLESAUCE FOR EVERYONE!"

Ron flung his arms over his head, spinning in a mad circle and accompanied by some slight maniacal laughter.

Harry and Hermione quickly gathered their books while the little hobo went around to the Hufflepuffs demanding servitude. Ginny walked into the Great Hall, gazing at the strange activity. She brightened when she saw Ron.

"Oh Ron, thank Merlin. I had hoped that Mum had only mis-packaged my dress one Weasley down."

Later that day in Potions, while Ron was still sulking over his 'ceremonial robe' a new fashion craze swept the school.

It all started the weekend before, when Malfoy came back with Muggle apparel…

"What the hell, Malfoy?"

Draco Malfoy sauntered into the class fifteen minutes late, pirouetted, then pranced across the room to his seat.

Professor Snape gaped open-mouthed at the scene, then promptly threw his stirring spoon at Seamus' head. "50 points from Gryffindor!"

"What?" Seamus groaned angrily, rubbing his head. "Is it my fault Draco is dressing like a homo?"

Snape flung a dead rat at him. "100!"

"Professor!" Seamus cried.

"120!"

The fourth year Gryffindor boy angrily drifted into silence, as did the rest of the class. They turned and stared at Malfoy.

"What?" Draco shrugged, crossing his legs. "Is there something wrong with expressing my own personality?"

Snape sneered. "But why the pink pants?"

Malfoy jumped to his feet. "PINK IS A VERY MANLY COLOR! IT BRINGS OUT MY ALABASTER UNDERTONES!"

Another Slytherin boy in the back of the class room squinted at the young Malfoy heir.
"There's something written on his butt." He declared.

Malfoy nodded angrily. "Of course there is! It's fashion!"

And indeed, there was something written on the back of Draco Malfoy's pink pants, in loopy, fancy script: JUICY.

"Juicy? Exactly what's that supposed to mean?" Dean accused him.

"That is stupid!" Hermione agreed.

"I don't know…" Parvati cut in, a strange gleam in her eyes. "They're kind of…cute…"

"Mister Malfoy," Snape ordered, and sternly, having added the not often used middle "iste". "Go change this instant. You are shaming your house."

Malfoy huffed, and marched towards the door. "THERE'S NOTHING WRONG WITH IT!" he screamed and raced out of the room.

Snape may have put a stop to it at the moment, but the idea was now floating toxically around…

"What in the name of Merlin is going on!" Hermione cried, as the trio stepped into the Great Hall for the lunch break. "I demand some answers!"

Lavender and Parvati floated past them in matching turquoise kakis, with the words: Cute and Available pasted across their hind ends in rhinestones.

"Uh! Did you just see that?" She pointed furiously at the two girls. "Their butts were sparkling, Ronald! THEIR BUTTS WERE SPARKLING."

Ron eyed this anomaly, "Uhuh."

"Ah! Harry!" Alicia enthusiastically greeted him as they sat down at the Gryffindor table. "Have you noticed the pants?"

Harry looked around at random Cute's, Juciy's, a Sexy on Neville, and even saw Draco again, sporting white fabric and an Obscenely Rich logoed rear end.

"Yesss…" He hesitantly answered his Quidditch teammate.

"They're smashing! Aren't they?" Alicia nodded excitedly, "And I thought, what better way to keep the team's moral up when we have the year off!" She held up two pairs of striped gold and red pants, one said Gryffindor and one said Quidditch. "Now which one do you like?"

"Uh…"

Luckily, Harry was saved from answering the question by McGonagall's booming voice. "ALL GRYFFINDOR STUDENTS TO CLASSROOM C34, I REPEAT, ALL GRYFFINDOR STUDENTS TO CLASSROOM C34!"

Harry quickly jumped away from the logoed pants and hurried into the hallway.

Ron and Hermione slowly followed, Hermione glaring at the multicolored pants.

"Honestly, Ronald! Sparkling!"

"Gryffindor is a proud house." Professor McGonagall announced in her purple Animagi pants. "And with the Yule Ball fast approaching, we must learn the proper techniques and manners, so not to disgrace our house…yes, Ms. Brown?"

Lavender lowered her hand. "So, there really is going to be a ball this Christmas?" She squeaked excitedly.

"Yes," McGonagall blinked. "For fourth years and above, normally it would be only sixth years and above, but because of Special Potter we had to bend the rules."

Harry coughed at the Professor's frank statement, choking on his spit.

"Third years and below are invited to come only if asked by an upper classman. So!" She clapped her hands together. "First we must…yes, Ms. Patal?"

Parvati lowered her hand. "So a dance, we're really, really, having one?"

"Yes," McGonagall frowned. "As I stated, there will be a dance…"

"With dresses?" a fifth year girl questioned.

"Y—ess…those things are often required at such an event…"

"And dress robes?" A small second year quivered.

"Yes, of course—"

"And a band?"

"It's a ball! Of course there will be music!"

"So, dancing? And food."

"YES!" the Head of Gryffindor screeched. "IT'S A BALL—A DANCE, YOU WILL DANCE AND EAT AND BE MERRY, OR SO HELP ME—" She paused, then slowly withdrew her index finger and lowered her hand. "—any more questions?"

"Whoa, now M-Dawg." One of the Weasley twins spoke up. "There's no need for finger wagging, just tell us why we're here."

"Yes," She glared at her students. "On the dance floor you must be like a delicate-dancing-thingy! A Lordly, leaping lion! Or a lovely lusty lady! But no lusty, otherwise I'll rip your tongue out." She paused giving them the stare. "Any more questions?"

Ron giggled into Harry's ear. "I don't think Eloise Midgen is a lovely anything."

"HEY!" A large girl with broad shoulders screamed across the room at Ron, her towering six foot frame looming over the other girls.

Ron paled, then quickly turned away, as if he couldn't hear her.

"YEAH, I'M TALKING TO YOU, YOU NILLY BOY!"

"Ron…I think Eloise is trying to tell you something…" Harry whispered in his ear.

"WHAT? YER THINK YOU'RE SO GREAT, MOLD-FACE? EH?"

"She's crazy…" Ron moaned, "I think she's going to kill me…and what mold?"

"COME ON OVER HERE AND I'LL SHOW YE LOVELY! I'LL GRIND YE BONES TO MAKE ME BREAD!"

Professor McGonagall beamed at the exchange. "This is exactly what I was looking for! Mature students who want to work hard for the glory of their house! Well done you two!"

"ARGGHHH!"

"Why," Minerva continued on, "Why don't you two just show us how it's done! Come now, join hands…"

The large girl smiled evilly. "COME TO MIDGEN, MY PET."

"Harry!" Ron hissed, grabbing fistfuls of his shirt, "Please! Don't let her take me!"

Eloise marched across the floor and grabbed onto Ron's legs, yanking him off Harry, the Boy-Who-Didn't-Want-To-Get-Involved.

"NOOOOooooo…"

Fred and George, the usual pranksters, and funny guys extraordinaire, had nothing to follow this up with as they watched open-mouthed as the Gryffindor girl wiped Ron across the floor.

After their two hours of dance class was over (Ron and Eloise had been asked to pair off ten more times) Ron and Harry limped out of Classroom C34, followed by Hermione. The boys were covered with bruises; Ron because he was used as a mop, and Harry, because everyone had been dying to impress a School Champion.

"So…find any suitable dates?"

Harry frowned, when McGonagall had announced that Harry had needed a date to dance the opening number with the other School Champions, it had started a riot.

"I don't know…" he looked down at his ink-marked body. "This Susan Markings, Year 6 on my left elbow, seemed nice…or Rachel Meyer, Year 4 on my forehead…defiantly not Emily Johnson, Year 7, who ripped off my right pant leg…"

Ron glanced fore longingly down at all the scribbled names covering Harry's body.

"…but…" Harry continued on, "I've really had my eye set on…uh,…someone else…"

Ron sighed, imagining bright Bulgarian colors. "Me too."

Hermione snorted. "Well, who ever it is, just make sure it isn't a girl wearing a pair of those stupid logoed pants," she glared as a group of girls in Champions are Hot, Cedric Flushes the Potty!,and Edmund pants walked by.

"They're so stupid!"

Ron rolled his eyes. "Okay, Harry, by the end of the day, we will have dates, got it?"

Harry nodded, "I'll do it,"

So, they spit, missed, clapped hands, and went in opposite directions.

Harry had been roaming around for a couple hours, when he decided to take a break and visit Hedwig, he had never felt this urge before, but plot-wise, it was important for him to be there.

He was walking up the icy steps to the Owlery, which had mysteriously been separated from the castle this past year, when, rounding on the door, he ran into Cho Chang.

"O'ye! Arry!" She screeched, slipping, and falling on her butt.

"Oh, Cho!" Harry hurriedly grabbed her arm and helped her up. "Are you all right?"

"Vell, yes, intiz fein nooow." She replied, switching from and Scottish accent to a German one.

An awkward silence filled the air between them, Harry cursed his instincts of following the plot.

"Ell, Ei moust bee going…" she hesitantly told him in her Chinese accent, as she tried to shuffle around him.

"Wait!" Harry spun around, "willyougototheballwithme?"

"WAIT?" Cho questioned him in her thick Scandinavian voice.

"I said, Will you go…to…theball withme?"

"Oh…" Cho sighed, deflating. "I'm sorry dude, that sounds radical, but I've already got a BF for this thing."

Harry's lips quivered, "It's…it's…" Without warning his pants fell down.

And that's when the Gryffindor School Champion ran away crying.

When Harry walked in to the Gryffindor Common Room later that night, his quest unfinished, he didn't expect to see a defeated Ron, slumped on the couch with a pair of Moist neon pink logoed pants on.

Ginny was standing beside him, gently patting his arm and whispering soothingly to him.

Harry joined the scene. After a couple minutes he leaned over towards Ron. "What's with 'Moist'?"

"You know…Juicy, Sweet, Moist…" he mumbled.

"Ron, you have no capacity for muggle knowledge, at all…" he paused. "So what happened to you?"

He groaned. "I asked Fleur out."

Hermione had joined them by this time. "She said no?" She inquired.

Ron moaned again. "Noo…"

"She said yes!" Harry yelled, wondering how in the world Ron got a date and not him.

"Nooo…"

Hermione frowned. "Then what?"

Ginny looked up from her brother and over at the other two. "Oh, don't laugh at him, but he went up and asked her…and she just kind of stared at him…"

"Was she surrounded by people?" Harry asked.

Ron started kicking his feet on the floor. "Yes! That's why it was so bad!"

"Ahh…" Hermione nodded wisely. "Don't worry about it Ron, she was probably turning on the charms for some other boy, and you got hit in the crossfire."

"She is half-veela," Harry added.

"Oh, that makes me feel loads better!" Ron growled.

"Don't worry about it," Harry laid back against the backrest, "I don't have a date too. Either does Hermione or Ginny…"

Ron bolted upright. "Hey! That's right! Hermione you're a girl! And Ginny! You can go with Harry!"

Ginny blushed. "I can't, I already promised Neville…Sorry, Harry."

Harry shrugged.

Hermione bristled, turning toward Ron. "OH? A girl, am I? How clever of you to notice, Ronald!"

"Well?" He insisted. "It's not like you were asked out!"

Hermione jumped to her feet. "As a matter of fact, I have! And maybe next time, you'll ask me sooner and not use me as your SCAPEGOAT!" With that she stormed away.

Ginny sighed, then got up to follow her. "I hope you're feeling better Ron, Bye Harry." And with that she walked away, her HP FanClub pants flashing in the firelight.

"Well, Harry…now what?"

Harry looked around, noticing Lavender and Parvati enter the Common Room.

"Stay there," he told Ron, "I'll be right back."

He jumped up from the couch and trekked over towards the two girls.

"Look Parvati," he said rather bluntly. "I need a date for the Yule Ball, would you be mine?"

Parvati eyed him for two whole minutes, then pried open his mouth and checked his teeth, she turned away and discussed the situation in hurried whispers.

Phrases like "Loser…", and "whiny…" popped up, but she soon turned back around.

"Sure."

Harry sighed. "And what about my friend Ron? Would Lavender…?"

"HELL NO." Lavender burst out. "I mean…uh, I already have a date. Sorry."

Parvati looked over at Ron, eyeing him as critically as she eyed him. "I think my twin Padma will take—er, will be happy to go out with him."

He gave her a relieved smile. "Okay, thanks…uh, I'll talk to you later…?"

She nodded waving him away, then broke out into excited giggles, just like the kind Ron did.

Harry strutted over to Ron.

"I have acquired dates."

Ron laughed. "Good, I was beginning to think we were losers or something…"

Harry snorted. "For real."

Siriusly