A/N: Yes, another comedy cranked out by yours truly, the master of comedic talents. Enjoy this strange fic and review for me too. (Because you know you want to)
Disclaimer: I don't have any copyright towards Harry Potter and J.K. Rowling has full copyright over Harry Potter. I'm not making any money from this fic though that would be nice.
What's Up: Alcohol, sexual situations, illegal stuff, drugs and pizza. Yeah, pizza.
"Why do they call it the Divine Comedy anyway," asks Ron, "I mean, it isn't divine and it sure as hell isn't funny."
"Ron," Hermoine replies, "I'm sure Dante means divine as in heavenly, or godly, it is about him going through Hell and Heaven and whatnot."
"But that doesn't explain why it's a comedy."
"You haven't even read it!"
"So."
"Ron," butted in Harry, "Your turn." Harry hands him the telephone.
"What should I say this time?"
"It's your turn not ours," said Hermoine. He glares at her and stands in thought for a little while.
"Oh, I got it!" He punches in a number on the telephone. He puts it one voice box so everyone can hear.
"Operator," says an arrogant and annoying sounding husky female voice. Ron leans close to the speakerphone and speaks to her in a whisper.
"I need you, I want you. I want to feel you, deep inside me." The operator hangs up.
"Good one Ron," praises Hermoine.
"Wait for it, wait for it," Harry mutters. Seconds later the phone rings. Ron again answers and puts it on speakerphone.
"Hello?" he asks in a cheery voice much unlike his own.
"I want to feel you," comes the reply, "Deep inside me."
"You have a very dirty mind."
"I want you to touch me. Touch me everywhere."
"Why are you tormenting me?"
"Because," the husky female voice replies, "I need you, inside me." Ron hangs up then quickly dials another number. A comforting voice picks up on the other line.
"Local county Police Station."
Ron puts on a scared voice and works himself into tears, thinking of Harry and Hermoine dead and what would happen afterwards.
"Y-yes," he says shakily with some sobs in-between, "An op-operator has been c-calling us and sh-she w-w-wants to get at us s-sex-sexually."
"Don't worry," the police phone person says soothingly, "Everything will be all right. Now can you tell us where you are at right now?"
"Th-thirty five Dustan Street."
"All right. Just stay calm, we are running a search to find any operators that would pick up in your vicinity."
The three of them woke up early in the morning. Hermoine was on the bed, Ron on the couch and Harry on the recliner. They had rented a Muggle apartment for a search the Ministry of Magic was doing. They were supposed to attend college and note how different or indifferent Muggle schools are from Hogwarts. Cornelius Fudge had set them up in an American school because he had already run searches for English schools.
The three, who were now in their second year, performed college life like any other college kids. That's right, pizza was for breakfast and the only other liquid in their "diet regimen" besides water was beer. To simulate true college life, Ron had gotten a job where he worked Monday to Thursday, 10:00 P.M. to 6:00 A.M.
But of course in college there were other ways to make money other than work and Hermoine took full use of that aspect. There were tons of drunken students for Hermoine to, erm, and "do her work with". And don't think she was a prostitute, because we all know who gets invited to bachelor parties as the "main dish". For those who don't know what she does, then honestly you need to get out more.
Harry had quite liked the idea of being a bookie. It was also a good thing he was brilliant, because most of his bets he would take in were from drunks. He'd tape the games, ranging from horse races to basketball games, and then trick them into betting for the losing team, making extremely good odds, basically robbing them from their money when the losing team lost.
The three of them had adapted to college life very easily. At first, the only reason they had really done it was for the money, a thousand Galleons apiece, and for the experience. Now it was much more then just the parties, booze and sex they enjoyed (Yes it sounds great…) but rather the fun they had and the memories they shared. Yeah, right. That statement sounds pretty farfetched coming me doesn't it?
Anyway, back to the trio. It was Sunday today, and Ron was used to not getting much sleep, on average getting about 18 hours of it a week, so he's up first. Ron walks over to Harry and slaps him hard on the face.
Harry snorts and sits up, groggily grunting, "What."
"Come on time to wake."
"Son of a," Harry mumbles as he falls back on the recliner to regain his thoughts. Ron moves to Hermoine next and lightly shakes her awake.
She opens her eyes.
"Morning beautiful," he says and kisses her. She shoves him off, throwing him to the floor.
"Stop that!" He pretends to look hurt and clamps his chin with his right hand.
"Oh," says Harry impatiently as he steps out of the bathroom, "You do this every morning, it gets annoying. Why don't you just kiss him back so I can have some peace." A thud emits from the door of the apartment.
"Oi, mails here," exclaims Ron getting up and no longer looking said. He opens the door, grabs the mail and newspaper, examines it and says, "Blimey, some bloke from Hollywood was found murdered last night where he was 'brutally attacked with a blunt axe.' Sounds like we've got another 'Nearly Headless' going around."
"Did I get any mail?" Hermoine asks as she grabs a brush to tame the wild bush hat is her morning hair.
"Yeah, you got some fan mail." He tosses her a dozen envelopes. "And Harry, you got some too. Probably the drunken fools you made bets against." He hands Harry two envelopes and then stays his hand at giving him the third.
"What is that one? Come on Ron give it to me." Ron laughs.
"Heh, look at this one. Lipstick marks all over it in the form of kisses. What have you been up to lately?"
"Oh shut it," he replies as he snatches the last envelope. Hermoine finishes grooming and reads through her letters, Harry goes into he bathroom and Ron sits down to read the paper. Ten minutes go by and Harry returns from the bathroom when Ron exclaims something.
"Whoa, look here, 'Local operator arresting for child molestation'. That's another one." Harry takes out a notepad and flips to a page. On it says 'Operators we got arrested'. Below that there are a number of tally marks that add up to six. Harry marks another one next to the ones already there.
"I'll be out for a while," Hermoine butts in, "There's some rowdy guys on Elm, I'll see if I can nab some greenback for us."
"Have a good time," Ron jokes.
Morning turns to afternoon when finally some customers arrive. They are interested in placing bets against Harry for the upcoming Sonics game.
"I," says one of them "will bet you two thousand dollars that the Seattle Supersonics will beat the Dallas Mavericks and score over one hundred points in doing so."
Harry stares at the other guy and says, "What are you here for?"
"I am here to make sure you don't cheat us or nothing." Excellent, Harry thought, someone who is actually smart enough to have witness to the bet.
"Right. Seeing as the Sonics are really sucking this year and the chance of them scoring a hundred against the Mavericks are practically nil, I'll offer you excellent odds. If the Sonics win and score over a hundred points you get ten times the amount of your bet. If they lose, you have to pay me five thousand. If they lose but score a hundred, I'll pay you three thousand two thousand. And if they win but don't score a hundred points, it's an even bet, no one has to pay anyone anything. Sound good to you?"
"Yes it does. So, the game starts at eight thirty, I will see you at eight at Blarney's Sports Bar and Grill." With that the two men leave.
"God damn, those dudes are stiff," Ron says while mocking teenage American slang.
"Yeah no kidding."
"So when's Hermoine getting back?"
"Dunno," Harry says running a hand through his hair, "But we're low on dough."
"No worries," smiles Ron. Ron leaves the apartment at three P.M. and returns at six. Along with him is a gorgeous woman. He takes out his wallet and extracts five hundred dollars from it, throwing it to Harry. Ron pulls down his left sleeve and looks at his watch.
"He's late."
"Who," returns Harry, "Who's late?"
"The 'Duke of York' fellow who's gonna hook up with Anita here." A knock comes from the door. "Ah!" Ron walks over and opens the peephole. A seedy man in a cheap suit is standing outside the doorway. Ron opens the door and beckons he come inside.
"'Duke', this is Anita. That'll be a hundred an hour."
"You think I'm made of money," the sleazy man shouts.
"You made it seem so on the phone, you cheap bastard." The 'Duke' throws a punch at Ron, who easily dodges it. A hard-hitting side hand sweep to his jaw is more then enough to knock the sleazebag out. Ron kicks him outside and throws him down the stairs outside their apartment room.
"Anita, you wouldn't want to do business with that guy. Besides there are others who are more fit for that kind of thing." She giggles and Ron picks her up in his arms and carries her to the bedroom.
"Damn, man, close the door at least."
"Ho! Another three points to the Mavs, count it baby!" Harry had met up with the man he placed bets with earlier in the day. They were now well into the third quarter of the Sonics-Mavericks game, the score standing at seventy-three to sixty one, favoring the Mavs.
Harry had come quite attached to basketball and football and they were easily the best sports to make lots of money. Most bets people would place would be for either sport. But there are also the people who make bets on Quidditch, the wizards.
Because Harry couldn't use magic in public places, he had to learn about the sort of things Muggles use instead. And lots of times, the betters would get rowdy at the bar, so Harry also learned to fight well. Common bar-weapons were half broken beer bottles or big shards of glass. Someone enters the bar.
Hermoine sees Harry and walks up to him.
"Hi, Harry," she says cheerily.
"Hello Hermoine," he replies over his beer, "So how was the party?"
"Ah the cops broke it up in the first twenty minutes. How's the game?"
"Mays are winning, seventy seven to sixty three."
"Good. I'll take a Heineken," she says to the bartender. Harry leans in lose to Hermoine and whispers in her ear.
"This game has been taped, the Sonics end up winning on hundred three to ninety seven. I've seen this game before. The bartender is in on it too because he's the one playing the tape. Just pretend like it is a regular game." She nods then kisses him to shoo away any suspicion.
The fourth quarter comes around and the Mavericks are winning eighty-one to seventy-four. Harry keeps up his act until there were five minutes left in the game. The Sonics pulled ahead with ninety-seven to ninety-five. Harry orders another beer. The Sonics end up winning, not surprisingly, one hundred three to ninety seven.
"Ha," the gambler snorts, "It looks like you lose."
"Not quite," Harry snarls and smashes the beer bottle on the gambler's head. The bartender reaches for Harry put falls back when Hermoine punches him in the face. A bottle comes from out of nowhere and smashes Harry in the face. Black shrouds his mind.
"Hey wake up," a voice says. Harry lifts his head and finds Ron standing over him at their apartment. "Good you're awake. I have to go to 'work', Hermoine will see over you." Ron leaves the apartment building.
Harry stands up and finds Hermoine. He says, "What happened?" All she does is put a finger on his lips to shush him. Harry walks over to the kitchen and grabs a slice of pizza. He walks back into the main room when he is done but finds something, different.
Hermoine is in her 'work' outfit (Guess what that is and you get thirty points) and when she sees Harry a strange gleam enters her eyes. She slowly walks towards Harry.
"Whoa, Hermoine, what are you doing?" She continues towards him and finally reaches him. She brings him into a kiss and he breaks it early.
"What is wrong with you!" She runs at him and starts to chase him through the apartment. Finally, she traps him in a corner and lunges at him.
"Hermoine, Noooooo…"
A/N: Cliffhanger huh? MWAHAHAHA! Write me a review will you? And tell me what you think of this, erm, brilliantly imaginative fic. Peace oot.