by Topaz
A/N: Don't worry. Only two or so more chapters after this and the torture will be over.
Disclaimer: "What's My Age Again?" belongs to Blink182. You should know who Harry belongs to by now, even if I don't.
"Who would like to go next?" Dumbledore asked cheerily.
Half of the student body hid under the table. The other half tried to hind behind each other, but obviously someone had to be in front. Ron Weasley, struggling and protesting, found himself shoved to the front. Draco smirked.
"Ah, Ron!" said Dumbledore. "Thank you for volunteering!"
Ron whimpered.
Somehow time collapsed and one minute he was trembling in front of the crowd, the next he was standing before them with the microphone held in one hand. He tried to scream, but couldn't. There was an odd feeling, the same one you would get if an insane plumbing device had ripped out your voice box and attached it to a computer.
Music began to fill the air, emanating from the microphone. Ron, beads of sweat shining on his forehead, began to sing. "I took her out, it was a Friday night. I wore cologne, to get the feeling right. We started making out..."
About one thousand jaws dropped. Fred and George Weasley looked stunned. Hermione went pale.
"...and she took off my pants..."
"I did not!" Hermione shrieked, leaping to her feet. "You're exaggerating! I only unbuttoned your shirt!"
"You did?" Fred said, sounding delighted.
"But then I turned on the TV," Ron sang, his ears flaming. "And that's about the time she walked away from me." He glanced at Hermione out of the corner of his eye. She glared at him.
"You turned on Baywatch!"
"So?" Ron managed to squeak before the microphone regained control. "Nobody likes you when you're twenty-three..."
"Ron, dear, you're fifteen," George said flatly.
Ginny giggled. "Ron's going insane."
"Oh, brilliant observation, that," Draco muttered. "Someone give the girl a medal." The judges for the annual Stating the Obvious award handed Ginny a medal with 'This is a medal' written on it.
"And I'm still more amused by TV shows. What the hell is ADD?"
"Attention Deficit Disorder," Hermione said reluctantly, unable to stop herself. "It's--"
"I bloody well know what it is," Ron snarled.
"Then why'd you ask?"
"I didn-- My friends say I should act my age..." Ron stared pointedly at Harry, who looked guilty.
"Well, honestly, Ron, you thought Santa Claus was real until third year," Harry said defensively.
"He's not?" Dennis said in a horrified voice.
"Oops," said Harry, sounding panicky.
"What's my age again?"
"Fifteen, Ron," Hermione said.
"Santa's dead?" Dennis asked sadly.
"What's my age again?"
Hermione glowered at him. "What is it with you and Voldemort? I already told you! And you should know your own age, anyway."
Ron started to reply, but his voice box clobbered him and went on singing. "But later on, on the drive home, I called her mom, from a pay phone."
"What?" Hermione said angrily. "Ron!"
"Eep..." Ron, looking terrified, tried to clamp his mouth shut with both hands. It didn't work. "I said I was the cops, and your husband's in jail, the state looks down on sodomy."
"RON!"
"And that's about the time that bitch hung up on me," sang Ron, miserably. By now he had a sort of huddled look like a dog that knows it shouldn't have peed on the Oriental rug.
"Ron! I'm telling Mum you swore!" Ginny screeched.
"My mother is not a bitch," Hermione growled.
"Dunno about that--" Draco began, earning himself a sharp whack on the ear.
Cowering behind the microphone, Ron continued. "Nobody likes you when you're twenty three."
Hermione crossed her arms. "I'm not even going to dignify that with a response."
"And I'm still more amused by prank phone calls..."
"Me, too," Draco agreed. "I love the one about Stanley...you know, where--"
"What the hell is Call ID?"
"It's this thing--" Harry began.
"Santa's dead!" Dennis sobbed, standing forlornly in a corner.
"My friends say I should act my age... What's my age again? What's my age again?" Ron caught a glimpse of Hermione's face and cringed. "Hermione, it's the microphone, it's evil, I--"
"I don't want to hear it," said Hermione, icily.
"Hermione..."
Draco smirked.
"And that's about the time she walked away from me. Nobody likes you when you're twenty-three. And you still act like you're in freshman year..."
"More like preschool," Draco said under his breath.
"What the hell is wrong me with?"
"Let me count the ways..." quoth Hermione. Draco looked as though he heartily agreed.
Ron glared at Hermione. "I told you, it's not me! The stupid microphone--"
"Oh, right, blame the microphone."
He exploded. Well, not literally. "Cripes, Hermione, do you listen to a word I say? The bloody microphone is making me sing this! You saw Voldemort! You saw Draco!"
"No one saw Draco," Draco said quickly. "That was a figment of your imaginations. Draco was never here. Er, you are getting sleepy, sort of thing."
"My friends say I should act my age...What's my age again? What's my age again?"
"Of course I listen to you!" Hermione shouted. "You just ignore me, it's always 'Oh, the Chudley Cannons are on against that blasted team from wossname--"
"Texas," Ron said sullenly.
" 'So forget the date, let's just watch TV and call Mrs. Andrews and pretend to be her dead husband'. Honestly, could you get more tasteless?" Hermione spat.
"That's about the time that she broke up with me. No one should take themselves so seriously," Ron intoned.
"You mean her husband wasn't really calling her from beyond the grave?" said Lavender, horrified.
"Ron was calling her, and he'll soon be in his grave if I have any say in the matter," Hermione said helpfully.
"With many years ahead to fall in love, why would you wish down me?"
Hermione stood up, knocking her chair over. "So that's it! You don't love me."
"Damn straight," said Ron. "Took you bloody long enough."
"I hate you!" Hermione shouted.
"I hate you, too!"
"Good!"
"Goo- I never want to act my age. What's my age again? What's my age again?..."
Hermione burst into tears, whirled, and ran out of the Great Hall, sobbing. Ron looked guiltily at Harry.
"I didn't mean that," he said in a worried tone. "Do you think she'll be okay?"
"Oh, just fine," Harry said, his voice far past the legal limit for sarcasm saturation. Ron still managed to not notice it, deserving an award for Most Oblivious Person to Walk the Earth. He would have gotten it, too, but the judges were too oblivious to notice his obliviousness.
"Good," he said, still anxious, then sang one final line. "What's my age again..."
"Santa..." wailed Dennis.
Colin poked him. "Voldemort's still alive."
Dennis perked up immediately. "Oh, yeah!" He paused, lower lip trembling again. "But Voldemort doesn't give me presents!"
"He kills people," Colin replied logically.
"Oh, right." Dennis nodded, smiling once more.
"Maybe I'd better go after her," Ron suggested.
Harry nodded. "Maybe. Wear a poncho, though, it's still raining." As if on cue, several tons of rain sleeted down at that exact moment. Thunder crashed. Neville Longbottom hid under his chair, his normally pink face ashen.
Ron ran outside, shouting, "Hermione?"
"Go away!" came the reply.
"Please, Hermione, I'm really sorry--"
There was a loud thud, and Ron stumbled back into the Great Hall, clutching his head and holding a slightly dented Nerf football in his hand. "I didn't know Hermione had that good of an arm," he whispered to Harry, wobbling dizzily. "She should be a Chaser."
"Please settle down, everyone," Dumbledore said pleasantly. "Tom, do stop stabbing Nearly Headless Nick. It's a bit late for that."
Voldemort blushed and thrust the butcher knife under his seat. Nick stuck his transparent tongue out, and Voldemort glared at him. "Well, your momma's so fat--"
"Tom."
"Sorry, Headmaster," Voldemort said automatically, then clapped a hand over his mouth, looking astonished.
"Let's see," Dumbledore beamed, looking around the auditorium. "Who'll sing next?"
Once more the Hall began to resemble a rodent hole as hundreds of students tried to burrow underneath each other or convenient pieces of furniture. Dumbledore didn't seem to notice.
"Well," he said, "if no one will volunteer I'm afraid I'll have to choose someone..."
(To be continued...although maybe not for a while, seeing as I have finals coming up.)