Generation X - Spring Term
Part Four - Disorders, Dark Arts and Debauchery
A/N: Well, part four is finally done! Now we are posting
chapter by chapter, the other two parts of the Spring Term shouldn't take too long to
appear. Sorry for the wait... we hope the result was worth it.
Please, please tell us what you think - your comments are
always appreciated! R/R and we'll love you forever. Yours, Aurora and Drosera. ^_~
"What're yer on about, mate?"
"What am I on about?!? The bloody thing nearly ripped my dick
off!"
"Sorry, mate. No refunds. Now piss off, ya little twat."
A diminutive boy scuttled away from Lee Jordan looking angry and
close to tears.
"Lee, like, what was that all about?" Hermione
asked, half-running over the lawns towards him. She was wearing a pale green dress and
with the spring sunlight on her hair she looked very pretty.
"Nothing, love!" Lee said quickly, stuffing his hands in
his pockets. "Bloody second years, honestly," he started, feeling some
explanation would be appropriate. "Don't know what he was-"
"And what 'nearly ripped his dick off'?" she cut
in accusingly, raising a slim eyebrow.
"Makes yer sick, dunnit? What are some people like? I'm
just walkin' along, right? Mindin' me own business, and that little... little shite, 'e
comes runnin' over and starts tellin' me this sordid story. Nothing to do with me,
princess," he added swiftly.
Hermione shook her head in an 'I don't want to know' kind of way.
If Lee wanted to go on being secretive, that was his lookout. All she had to worry about
was that she didn't have a date for Saturday night and Lee would probably love to go with
her to The Three Broomsticks for a romantic meal. If it turned out anything like their last
dinner date had done, she was in for an interesting weekend. Linking her arm through
his, she started walking with him back to the castle, preparing herself for another long
hour listening to him bore her to tears about the joys of Quidditch Commentary.
*
"Go on, Pansy. Go on... put it in your mouth."
"Draco, I don't want to!" she whined petulantly.
"Oh, come on! You'll enjoy it if you try it!"
"You can't make me! I won't eat that stuff! I don't even like
rice cakes! They taste of nothing!"
Draco sighed. "Not even if I break it up into little teeny
pieces?"
"No." And Pansy folded her arms defiantly.
"You've got to eat! Don't you understand? You'll
starve!"
"If you keep insisting on stuffing me full of these
revolting, fatty, monosodium glutamated, high-cholestrol snacks, I'll never fit in
to my new dress-robes!"
"Pansy, they're only rice cakes!" Draco pleaded.
"Look at the packet. No fat, no flavouring, no taste. They're not going to hurt
you." He knew much better than to suggest that maybe she shouldn't have bought the
smallest size of robes. They didn't look like they'd fit a stick insect on famine relief.
And they had cost him a very large sum of money. But he'd do anything to keep Pansy happy.
She was, after all, his favourite and most expensive mistake.
"Are you going to spoil the whole evening by force-feeding
me?" Pansy whined, interrupting his thoughts. "This is booorrriiiiing!"
"If you'd just eat, we could do something more
interesting!" Draco explained wearily.
"What, you mean like..." Pansy grinned. Draco nodded.
"But first, you have to eat."
Pansy lay back on her bright pink bedspread, and closed her eyes.
"Feed me, Draco," she said, and in an effort to try and
ask him nicely, even added a "please?".
How could he refuse when she asked him like that? At least she
had agreed to eat. Breaking off a tiny bit of rice cake, he leant over her and popped it
into her mouth.
*
The classroom slowly began to fill with Gryffindor students as the
first Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson of the term began. A replacement for the last
teacher had finally been found, and Harry and Ron were eagerly awaiting the arrival of the
mystery professor. After a brief argument between the boys over who would get to sit next
to Hermione, they took two seats near the back of the class.
A few moments later, the door opened. All eyes turned expectantly
to the front of the class. But to their surprise, not one, but three people walked in. And
they were a very strange collection of people. Two men, both in pinstriped suits and
bowler hats, escorted an extremely attractive young lady into the room. She looked about
seventeen, and smiled nervously at the class from where she was standing at the front.
Several of the males in the group smiled very enthusiastically back, and even Hermione
thought she looked friendly, in an innocent sort of way. She didn't look like she'd be
much competition, so therefore Hermione didn't hate her too much, yet. Hermione flashed
her a blinding smile and indicated that in a moment the new girl should take the seat next
to her. It never hurts to weigh up your opponent...
The two men in suits waved for silence in the room, which was
buzzing with chatter. One of them was almost superhumanly tall, and very thin. The other,
rather comically, was rounded and very short. They were dressed identically, and both
sported thin toothbrush moustaches. Hermione almost giggled when they began to speak.
Their accents were very strange, and hard to place. The short man spoke first.
"My name is Boris Rottinoff and I am one of your new - how do
you say - Defence Against the Dark Arts teachers."
"I am Professor Rottinoff's colleague, Horace Latchkopf. I am
your other Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher." This was all he said to the
class for the rest of the lesson.
Professor Rottinoff placed his hands on the new girl's shoulders
and turned to the class.
"This girl will be joining your class for the rest of the
year," he said. "Her name is -" he looked down at a small piece of paper on
the desk in front of him, "Cammy G. Mirlinu, and she is a student from..." he
looked at the paper again, "Peru." At this, he quickly looked at Horace, who
grimaced and nodded. Cammy came and took the empty seat next to Hermione.
Boris hurreidly gave them some work to do out of their textbooks,
and then retreated into a corner where he conversed frantically but quietly with Horace.
Hermione, who had finished the work, turned to the new girl and spoke to her for the first
time.
"Do you, like, know those men?"
"Ah - no. They bring me here. They very strange - but know
them? No, I no know them." The girl was very quiet, and Hermione felt reassured. She
had nothing to worry about.
Despite Hermione's opinion, a lot of people came over to introduce
themselves. Cammy spoke to them all in her quiet and polite way. Her English, after its
initial shaky start, was much better than Hermione had first thought.
Bored, Hermione looked over at the two new professors. It was very
unusual for a class to be split between two teachers like this. And they really were very
odd. They both had black hair, which was slicked into a greasy side-parting. They
even parted their hair on the same side, Hermione marvelled, staring at them. What
were they talking about that was so important anyway? Oh, well. They had to be better than
Professor Binns, who had been filling in for the previous term. And they would certainly
make Defense Against the Dark Arts classes more interesting.
*
Hermione came out of the class scowling. Despite her initial
ideas, everyone seemed to love Cammy Mirlinu. What kind of name is that, anyway? Hermione
fumed, scuffing her platform sandals on the stone floor as she skulked down the corridor.
Staring down at the floor, she walked headlong into Dean, who was hurrying in the other
direction. The loose sheets of paper he was carrying fluttered to the floor.
"Watch it, ya whore!" Dean spat, shoving past her and
bending down to retrieve the paper.
"Dean! What was that for?!?" Hermione said in
indignant disbelief.
"Oh, God, sorry Hermione!" Dean said, blushing.
"Didn't see it was you." And he started to shuffle away. Oh, great. Was she totally
invisible? The way things were going, her day couldn't get much worse. Spying
something on the floor, Hermione picked it up. Dean must have dropped it.
"Dean? Dean! You dropped your piece of..." she broke off
as she looked at what was on the paper. It was certainly very... graphic. Dean
snatched it away, blushing an even more furious shade of crimson.
"That's either so intellectual I don't understand it,"
Hermione said, "or so disgusting, I don't even want to think about it!"
Hermione shook her head. This day just kept on getting weirder. It
wasn't really that her male friends were into pornography that bothered her... she'd known
for some time, since she found a load of Playwizards under Harry's mattress. Oh,
no. What really got to her was the fact that the drawing Dean had dropped had borne a
striking resemblance to-
*
"Lavender!" Parvati called. "Lavender, come and see
Ranjit!" Lavender hurried over, already oohing and aahing about the tiny newborn
baby.
"Oh, Pav, he's so sweet! What cute little hands! And what
lovely dark eyes he has!" Parvati nodded, beaming.
"I couldn't have asked for a more lovely blessing,"
Parvati gushed, neglecting to mention that the 'adorable' Ranjit had just thrown up all
over her favourite dress robes. Twice. Lavender stayed to admire the new arrival for a few
more minutes before leaving to attend her next class. Parvati was alone again. Sighing,
she looked down at Ranjit. How could she bear to give him up? He would have to go and live
with her parents. They wouldn't even tell him he was hers. That was the condition on which
they had agreed to take the responsibility. She lifted Ranjit back up onto her shoulder
and carried him back to the hospital wing, where she layed him in his cradle. Then she
sunk back onto her bed, utterly dejected. Madam Pomfrey bustled over and put a hand on her
forehead.
"Are you feeling alright, dear?" she asked. Parvati
nodded and sat up a little.
"By the way," Madam Pomfrey said, smiling. "These
arrived for you today." She handed Parvati a small bunch of slightly mouldering
dandelions. They were tied up with a shoelace and attatched to them was a card. Parvati
turned it over, her hand trembling. In spidery, almost illegible handwriting, she could
just make out a word. Parvati read it and smiled, closing her eyes as she lay back on the
pillows. Her hand closed around the tiny piece of paper, which simply read,
'Blaise.'
*
Hannah tightened her flabby fingers around the barre as she
executed another wobbly plie. Her legs quivered with effort as she shifted her enormous
weight across the floor. Now for the pirouette. She picked up a bit of speed to aid her
momentum. Tottering across the floor, she raised herself up onto tiptoes and began to
turn. Slowly, the laws of physics caught up with her. Twenty stone supported on one podgy
big toe = disaster. Her foot buckled underneath her and she collapsed into a fat heap.
Tears of despair and dismay cascaded down her cheeks as she tried and failed to get to her
feet. And she'd locked to door to stop herself being discovered. She tried again to stand
up. She got halfway, then fell back down again. Weakly, she called out.
"Help? Anyone, please? Help! HELP! HELP ME!"
*
Dean walked past the empty charms classroom, still a little red in
the face after his 'run-in' with Hermione. From inside the classroom he heard plaintive
wailing. Pushing the door, he found it to be locked. A swift unlocking charm soon remedied
this, and he cautiously stepped into the room. The sound was coming from a huge pile of
tulle, silk, ribbon and lace heaped in the middle of the room. He prodded it, and was more
than a little alarmed when it spoke.
"AARRRGGH! Who are you? What are you doing? THAT'S MY
FACE!" Dean backed away hurriedly, and was halfway out the door when he was called
back.
"Oh, is that you, Dean? Sorry, sorry. No, please! Come
back!"
"What the fuck- I mean, who are you then? Ya bitch,"
Dean added, shutting the door behind him as he re-entered the room.
"Hannah," the lump of material spoke. "Hannah
Abbot. You know, in Hufflepuff?"
"Makes sense," Dean muttered. "What the fuck are
you doing in here? Sad bitch."
"Nothing! It doesn't matter. Just please... help me up?"
Dean walked around her. "Why should I?" he asked.
"I mean, what's in it for me?"
"I'll give you money - five galleons? Anything! Just please, please
don't tell anyone?"
"Tell anyone what? You haven't even fuckin' told me
what the fuck you were up to in here... wearing that." Dean looked at the tutu
in disgust. "Pokin' yerself, probly," he muttered to himself.
"Okay, okay. I was doing - I was practising my ballet. There.
Happy now?" Dean was more than happy. He was grinning all over his face. Luckily he
was standing in a position where Hannah couldn't see him. Whipping out his sketchbook, he
did a quick caricature to help him think. Then he reached a decision.
"Done."
Several inept 'weightlessness' charms and a levitation spell
later, Hannah was on her feet.
"Thankyou Dean! I can't thank you enough! Here!" and she
tipped five Galleons into his hand.
"Don't fuckin' mention it, mate," he said, grinning and
striding away.
*
Warm, soapy water washed over Harry's hands as he plunged the
sponge back into the bucket. This was his eighth night in a row of cleaning the prefects'
bathroom, and every time the task got more and more tedious. Not to mention the fact that
someone had left the pink bubble-bath tap running and it had gone all over the tiles again.
He was just trying to get some particularly stubborn strands of hair from out of the
plughole of the bath when the door opened. Cho walked in, wearing an indecently short
bathrobe.
Harry gulped.
"What are you doing here?" he yelped.
"Aren't you pleased to see me?" Cho purred.
"Well, yes, but... how did you get out of detention?"
"McGonagall's ill. I just abused my powers as head girl to
get some first-year doing the detention for me. I'll get in trouble tomorrow, but... I
know it'll be worth it."
Harry gulped again.
"Okay, but I haven't finished cleaning up yet," Harry
soldiered on, trying to ignore the fact that Cho was untying the belt of her towelling
robe. "Er, Cho? Could you pass me that fanny? - I mean flannel!" Harry blushed.
Cho just grinned.
"Don't be ashamed, Harry. I want you. Can't you see that? Now
stop wasting time!" Cho dimmed the lights, locking the door and starting the warm
water running into the bath. Things looked bad for Harry. How could he get away without
sounding like a total wimp? He was amazed Cho was still interested - who knew whether she
would be if they were interrupted for a third time? Harry rather hoped they would be. He
didn't feel like explaining his feelings of inadequacy to Cho, when she was so...
distractingly beautiful herself. Harry let his eyes linger on Cho as she stepped into the
water. Wisps of steam were rising from the surface, on which little silver bubbles were
forming. It couldn't have looked more inviting. But Harry was scared.
"Er, Cho? I-"
"Shh! Harry, come here." Harry couldn't stop himself
walking over to the bath. Cho untied the belt of his robes, pulling the material off of
his bare shoulders and exposing his upper half. She ran her fingers over his chest,
kissing his neck. Harry felt his resolve crumbling around him.
Suddenly, Cho pulled hard on the front of his robes and he went
flying into the water. Giggling, she watched as he spluttered to the surface. Harry kicked
his way out of the bottom half of his robes, but couldn't manage to remove his socks. Oh,
well. Now was the time. He had to face his fears...
*
Neville took Ernie's hand as they walked down the charms corridor.
They were deep in conversation, and both laughed when Ernie told a joke that was not
entirely appropriate. They rounded the corner and almost walked headlong into Professor
McGonagall. They dropped hands quickly, but not quickly enough for it to pass the stern
teacher by. She regarded them sharply, her beady eyes looking from one round face to the
other.
"There'll be no more of that in this castle, thankyou boys.
You've both lost your houses fifty points each."
Neville and Ernie looked at each other, gobsmacked. Professor
McGonagall was old, and therefore couldn't help being a bit prejudiced, but this was
ridiculous.
"Professor, that's incredibly unfair. I could sue you for
discrimination." Ernie protested.
Neville looked at his boyfriend admiringly. He really sounded
tough.
"Look, you stupid little bender. I know what people like you
get up to and I think it's disgusting! And Longbottom, I really don't believe your
Grandmother would be particularly happy if I told her about your little... transgression,
would she?"
Neville quailed. He hadn't been planning on telling his strict
grandmother. And what was happening to McGonagall? She was trembling, her face very pale.
"How dare you? In this school? It's a disgrace... a
travesty!" Ernie looked more worried than angry now.
"I think she's having a seizure!" he muttered to
Neville. It certainly looked as though something was wrong. Her limbs were shaking very
violently. Ernie reached out a tentative hand to steady her, but a crisp, sharp voice
interrupted him.
"Don't touch it!" It was Professor McGonagall. She stood
at the top of the corridor, looking horrified and extremely angry. Neville and Ernie
looked at her, then back to the other professor, confusion and terror on their faces.
"What - who -?"
"Get away from it. Quickly." The new McGonagall
commanded. They started to back away, but then-
"Don't listen to her, you fools! I'm the real
McGonagall!" the other one shouted.
"She isn't! Don't let it trick you!"
The two boys hovered indecisively between the two identical
figures. It was impossible to tell which was the real one, except that one of them had
just insulted them in a most un-McGonagall-like fashion and was trembling on the floor.
This steeled them to run up the corridor to the more recently-arrived teacher. Luckily,
their suspicions were confirmed when the McGonagall on the floor let out a guttural,
blood-curdling yell and split horribly out of her skin.
"AAARRRRGGGGHHHHHH!" Neville and Ernie let out identical
screams of terror as the slimy...thing started to crawl towards them. The real
McGonagall whipped out her wand and started cursing the creature.
"Neville, go and get Professors Latchkopf and Rottinoff! This
is their area of expertise." With a last look at Ernie, Neville sprinted away.
*
"You've got to come quickly!" Neville gasped as he burst
into the Dark Arts classroom. Horace and Boris looked up from the pile of papers they were
examining and hurreidly stuffed them back into their identical black briefcases before
jumping to their feet.
"Vot? Vot is vong?" their accents were stronger in their
surprise. But they did not seem too ruffled as they hastily reached for their wands and
followed Neville out of the classroom.
"She wasn't - she wasn't real! We thought she was, but she
wasn't! She's a monster!" Neville managed while tearing down a steep staircase.
"Ah!" Horace exclaimed. "We haff been expecting
this for a long time."
"You have?" Neville said as he screeched to a halt
behind McGonagall who was still battling the horrific creature. Behind him, Horace and
Boris rounded the corner and stopped short, staring at the black, slime-covered shape that
was writhing and slithering on the floor.
"Not vot we vere expecting!" Boris yelled as the monster
started to spit an acidic green
solution in their general direction. He sounded almost...
disappointed.
"Help me!" McGonagall yelled. "I don't know how to
kill it. I don't even know what it is!"
Horace and Boris looked at each other despairingly. Then they
slowly pulled out their wands and stood facing the monster.
"Incendio!" they shouted in unison. The black,
slithering thing burst into crimson flames, screeching horribly. But after almost a minute
of screeching, it was still not dead. Indeed, it seemed to have grown in size and its
anger had intensified considerably. The atmosphere had become one of utter panic and
confusion. Jinxes and curses were being hurled at the monster, none of which seemed to be
working. Pressing himself as far back against the wall as he could, Neville linked his arm
with Ernie's and they stood, wands raised, waiting for the worst.
*
"So you're enjoying Hogwarts?" Lavender asked Cammy as
they wandered out of the changing rooms. It turned out that Cammy was an excellent
Quidditch player, though fairly incompetent in all academic subjects.
"Oh, yes! I have fun here. It is a very nice, friendly
school. I wish I could attend here all of the time." The peruvian student said
enthusiastically.
"Can we go down here?" Lavender asked, "I need to
redo my make-up and there's a little bathroom down this corridor." Cammy nodded and
they turned down a side passage. They were just at the door to the bathroom when they
heard a loud shout.
"What on earth-?" Lavender shreiked. Cammy took off,
darting down the corridor and round the corner. She took one look at the flaming,
screeching beast before grabbing Neville's wand and rushing forwards with a cry of
"Leave it to me!"
Everyone looked quite happy to do so. She started towards the
creature, already chanting some complicated incantations in peruvian. Horace and Boris
were looking at her in astonishment. Her chanting grew more frenzied, the creature turning
its ugly head to stare at her.
"Oh my God!" Laveder squeaked. Cammy was shouting now,
and her irises had gone pure white. Electricity or something resembling it was crackling
around her, forming into a ball in her outstretched palms. Neville dug his nails into
Ernie's arm. Everyone watching was tense and pale. Then Cammy raised her arms above her
head and flung the sphere as hard as she could at the beast. It reared and screamed
horribly before disintegrating into a heap of ashes at Cammy's feet.
*
"I've, like, never seen anything so pathetic in my
life!" Hermione scorned untruthfully. She had arrived just in time to catch the end
of Cammy's heroics and it seemed she was the only one who wasn't impressed.
"Oh, come on Hermione. You're just jealous 'cause you
couldn't have done it!" Ron said gleefully. She sent a death stare in his direction.
"Honestly. I mean, it was only a basic banishment spell. Anyone
could have done it. I'm just the only one who wasn't taken in by her phoney lighting
effects. She's a total fake! Oh... hi, Cammy!"
"Hello, Hermione. What are you discussing so heatedly?"
"Um... trout," she said on the spot.
"Actually, Hermione was just saying how much she hates you
and your 'phoney lighting effects.'"
"Please excuse Ron and his sledgehammer wit," Hermione
said through gritted teeth, "he gets confused sometimes. But on the subject of your
little display earlier," at this, Cammy looked at her, "where did you learn to
do that?"
"At my school in Peru. Those creatures, they were quite
common there. So all Peruvian children know how to repel a Nvurek."
"Is that what it was?"
"Yes. A shape-changer. It takes on the form of the most
hostile creature already in the environment."
"Uh-huh. I do know what a Nvurek is, you know,"
Hermione lied, making a mental note to check them out in the library at the first
opportunity. But first, there were some bubbles to burst. "See, you guys? Anyone at
Cammy's school could have done that. It really wasn't anything special."
"That is what I have been trying to tell them," Cammy
said, smiling slightly. Hermione looked at her, trying to judge whether she was being
sincere or not. Hermione knew that if it had been her, she would have been milking it for
all it was worth. But then, Cammy was so... nice. The word felt incongruous to
Hermione. She usually used it when speaking in polite company about someone she privately
thought of as a whore.
She could see Ron staring at Cammy unashamedly, his jaw slack and
his eyes glazed. This wasn't fair. It was her job to make Ron drool over something
he knew he could never have. That was it. This was war.
*
"Put it in then!" Dean instructed.
"What, so this thing goes in here?"
"Yeah. Like that. Then you push the 'play' button. See
it?"
"Yeah. Okay... here we go."
Ron sat down on the sofa in the dormitory where Dean, Seamus and
Harry were already waiting for the movie to begin. They had assumed Neville wouldn't be
interested in the entertainment they had planned; Dean had managed to acquire another of
the infamous blank-covered videos and they were all eagerly anticipating what it
contained. They had been promised that it would show them 'things they'd never seen
before' and Dean was sure that if this was true, they were in for a treat. After a brief
and amateurish crackle, the screen flickered to life. And what life. The first
scene was in a room full of mirrors, a wooden bar running along one side. A familiar large
lump of pink material was on the floor, and the camera that must have been hidden in the
room confirmed all of Dean's worst suspicions about what Hannah Abbot was actually
doing instead of her ballet practise.
*
Cho ran a comb through her neat black hair and spritzed on a
little perfume before pushing open the door to her dormitory and wandering down to the
Gryffindor common room. Reaching the Portrait Hole, she fished around in her pocket for a
small scrap of paper bearing this week's password. Being Head Girl, she was automatically
given all of them at the start of each week in case of emergency. The Fat Lady opened
obligingly when she recognised the seventh year girl's familiar face, and Cho swung her
legs over the hole in the wall and entered the cosy, round room. Her eyes searched the
crowd for a sign of Harry, but he was nowhere to be seen. He must be in his dormitory,
then. With one last look at her make-up, she pushed open the door.
*
"Oh my GOD!" Seamus expectorated, "Harry, that's
YOU!"
"I know," said Harry, feeling sick. There he was,
scrubbing the floor. Any minute now, Cho would come in. And then... he didn't want to
think about it. Well, he did, but not right now.
"What the fuck are you doin' on here, Harry? I don't wanna
watch my mate doin' some poofter work, scrubbing the fuckin' floors! Where's yer apron,
eh? With the frills on it?"
"Shut up, Dean," Harry said, blushing. "And anyway,
it gets better. Just... watch." In truth, he was quite excited about seeing his
exploits again. He had probably missed some of the finer points while he was...
"Shagging Cho. A fuckumentary by Harry Potter." Cho's
voice cut across from the doorway, sounding embittered and cold.
"Oh, God. Oh crap. Oh no. Cho, please - it's not what it
looks like! I can explain!"
"I think you'd better," she said icily. The pain on her
face was clear, her eyes wide and hurt.
"I... can't explain. But Cho, if you'd just listen-"
"I've heard enough. I mean, 'it gets better?' Nice going,
Harry. You video us having sex? Fine. Kinky, but fine. You show your friends? You get your
bollocks chopped off. Or you would, if I had the means and the patience and the total
callous disregard for other people's feelings! I cared about you, Harry." And
tears spilled from those blue eyes he loved so much, and he couldn't bear to watch her any
more. He turned his face away to hide the fact that it was burning with shame.
"I'm sorry. I'm so, so, sorry. I didn't know. I would never
do that to you. Do you believe me?"
But he was talking to an empty doorway. Cho had disappeared.
*
"Harry Potter is a bastard. I hate him. I hate him!"
"It's okay, Cho honey. You're just telling me what the rest
of us have known all along. You're too good for him, you know that?" And Hermione
passed her the large tub of Rocky Road ice-cream so that she could sob into it.
"But he was so nice! And I really liked him, and I trusted
him, and I-" Cho broke down again.
"Shh, shh. It's okay." Hermione put her arm around Cho's
shaking shoulders and pulled her into a hug. "You're strong. You can get through
this." Since her initial misconceptions about Cho being a 'prissy seventh year bitch'
had been dispelled, Hermione had found Cho to be a fun, fearless and very useful friend to
have. And if you wanted the good times, you had to be prepared to put up with the bad.
Otherwise, Hermione would certainly not be wasting her Saturday evening listening to the
'hundred things you didn't want to know about Harry' in full swing. At least it meant
she'd be first with all the gossip tomorrow.
"And you're telling me he just videoed the whole
thing? How could he have known in advance?"
"I don't know... perhaps he was just hoping something like
that was going to happen. But I can't believe he just... did it with me, knowing it was
all being taped!"
Hermione had to admit, that didn't sound like the Harry she knew.
But who knew what he'd do under the influence of his friends? Listening to Cho listing
Harry's shortcomings made Hermione very glad she had such a caring, trustworthy boyfriend
as Lee.
*
"Did I say a galleon? For you love, sixteen sickles and
twenny eight knuts! Done." Lee handed Millicent Bulstrode a bulging paper bag and
tipped the Slytherin girl's money into a heavy pouch almost overflowing with coins. When
she had gone, he grinned and weighed up the bag in his hand. There had to be at least two
hundred galleons in there. He had made a massive profit. Closing his briefcase, he tucked
the pouch into his pocket and strode to the front of the Great Hall. Fred and George had
helped him to erect a podium there, so he would be a commanding prescence while he
delivered his speech. He had been planning it for months, and had run it past Hermione
several times. Judging by her interest and enthusiasm, everything should go perfectly. He
had invited almost the whole school to see it, and would be enlightening them with his
two-hour long masterpiece about commentating Quidditch Matches. Assuming his 'earnest and
important' pose, he cleared his throat and the waiting crowd fell silent.
*
Hermione put the tape into the machine and sat back on her bed to
watch it. A depressed Harry had been all too glad to let her borrow the VCR and being
muggle-born she had no trouble operating it. She wanted to see what all the fuss was
about, and was still dubious as to why Harry had decided to film Cho and him in the
bathroom. The tape started to play. The sound quality was so bad that it was impossible to
make out any of the conversation. And the tape didn't begin with Harry and Cho. There was
Hannah Abbot. What was she doing? Eeeeeew. Ah... here was Harry. Scrubbing the floor. Then
Cho came in... she took off her robes and slipped into the water. The girl's got class,
Hermione thought, as she watched Cho pull Harry headfirst into the huge bath.
After that there were several other scenes that could only have
been filmed with hidden cameras. Was Harry really this sick? It would take a seriously
weird pervert to want to film all of this. Though she had to admit, the film was very
enlightening. Well, that was fun. She was about to remove the tape from the VCR when
something caught her eye. Inside the blank case was a small slip of white paper. She
unfolded it, her eyes widening as she read the short and almost illegible note.
Dean here is the tape. First bit is a bit boring but fast-forward
to 50:07 minnites and I garantie the only sound you'll here is the fly-buttons hitting the
seeling know what I mean? Thanks for the 'art' it will fetch quite a good price. Lee.
The most worrying thing is the spelling, Hermione thought as
she screwed up the note. Then she flattened it out again and spun forward to the number
specified in the note. She supposed she should be worried about Lee's rather sick little
hobby, but... oh well. Everybody has their little fetishes.
She watched the numbers on the tape as they went up... thirty...
forty... fifty. Then, with more than a little trepidation, she pushed the play button. Oh,
the sound was worryingly clear on this bit. As was the picture. As was the horrible,
sickening sense of realisation that dawned on her like a particularly malicious and
vengeful morning. Oh, bollocks. Did she really wear that bikini? Well, half of that
bikini, at least? And she didn't remember saying those things. Oh, that was Angelina just
walking through the door. This must have been that night right at the beginning of term.
No wonder she didn't have a very clear memory of it. The next scene started with Lee's
face looming into the camera as he angled it so it faced the bed in the middle of the
room. He obviously hadn't spent much time editing it. Then he straightened his tie and
opened the door. A smiling Hermione stepped in and greeted Lee with a deep kiss. At
least I look great, she consoled herself. That bastard! I am going to kill him.
Right now. And she kicked the VCR so that the screen went fuzzy. Her motto was usually
'don't get mad, get even.' Right now, she was fully intending to do both. Where was that
sod now? Oh, yes. How could she have forgotten? He would be at that stupid, pissing,
Quidditch lecture. At least she'd give his audience something interesting to watch. Boy,
was she angry. And armed with a pair of industrial strength bolt-clippers, she marched
down the corridor towards the Great Hall.
*
"And so I said, 'he's gonna score!' and he did! How's that
for exciting, eh?" There was a lacklustre murmur from the audience as Lee launched
into another long and boring anecdote.
Heads whipped around as the heavy doors slammed open. Kicking
those doors felt good, Hermione thought, but nothing will compare to kicking his...
"Bollocks!" Lee muttered, seeing his irate girlfriend
advancing towards him. "Can't you see I'm busy, darling?"
The audience held its breath as all of Hermione's weight was put
behind a punch that would have knocked the arse off of a concrete elephant.
"What was that for, babe?" Lee asked, rubbing his jaw
and standing up again.
"Oh, Lee. Don't smile." And she punched him again, this
time square in the face.
"Arrrgh! What's up with you then?" Hermione didn't
answer yet. She just kicked him in the shins a couple of times. Lee looked up at her,
still inexplicably grinning.
"God, you're cute when you're angry," he said. He
obviously thought this would appease her. She responded by winding him with a very violent
kick to the stomach.
"Oooof! Cor, blimey luv!" He managed to get to his feet
again and held his briefcase protectively in front of him. Quite a few people were
cheering Hermione on.
She assessed the situation for a split second before grabbing one
end of his briefcase and tugging it.
"Eh! Give us that back!"
"Why certainly," she yelled before slamming it with
astonishing force into his groin.
"Ow, my bollocks!" he groaned, twisting around in agony
on the floor. Hermione felt great. She really should do this more often. Lee's eyes were
fixed on his briefcase which lay on the floor a few feet away. He made a sudden advance
towards it but Hermione got there first, snatching it up from the floor and stamping on
both of his hands. Sucking his bleeding fingers, he tried to bite Hermione's arm and make
her drop it, but she elbowed him in the face. Curled up in a bruised heap on the floor,
Lee just managed to say,
"I like.. a woman... with spirit," before Hermione
jumping on his stomach reduced him to silence.
"Now... let's have a look at this!" and she threw
the briefcase at Lee's head. It bounced off and fell open on the floor.
"Darlin', you don't wanna be doin' that, I promise."
But he was too late. A loud springing noise came from inside the
suitcase before it executed a fairly complicated series of whirrings and expanded into
several large trestle tables on which lay goods of highly questionable virtue.
"It's not mine, honest love!" Lee said feebly before
passing out.
*
End of Part Four
A/N: Please, please review us! We'd love to know what you thought.
And look out for part five... coming to ff.net soon! A&D ^_~
