Disclaimer: I don't own anything in this story except the plot. But I would
be willing to trade that for any of the MALE characters in Harry Potter.
Just something to think about, Mrs. Rowling. Plus, Stacy (mysterywriter)
helped me with this whole story (plus many others) when I got writers block
(which ALWAYS happens).
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Chapter 2: I Didn't Know the Devil Wore Gucci
When Hermione and Ron arrived at Harry's apartment, it was already filled to a breaking point with doctors and Ministry of Magic people. Fudge quickly found them, and tried to explain. But before he could say anything, Hermione cut in.
"Where's Harry?" She asked sternly, loving the way Fudge shuddered at her forcefulness.
"He's in his bedroom." Fudge said. "But I don't think you should go in there." But Hermione didn't care. She pushed past her boss and a silent, but impressed Ron followed her.
There were so many people around Harry's bed, Hermione felt like she'd need a machete to cut though them all. She was finally able, after standing on her tip toes, to see Harry lying on his bed. He looked like he was sleeping. Everything looked okay, no cuts or bruises. Except for his scar. It was glowing green. Ron and Hermione pushed past a couple other doctors, and were at the side of Harry's bed. Fudge, the little leech that he was, slide up next to Hermione and said, "It was Voldemort."
No shit, Sherlock. "Really?" Hermione asked, succeeding in keeping all of the sarcasm out of her voice. She didn't want to be unemployed any time soon.
"Yes." Fudge said wisely. Hermione held back the urge to roll her eyes. "He attacked Harry." God! Did this guy know anything that was of importance to her?!
"Is he alright?" Ron asked, a look of deep concern in his eyes. Hermione couldn't help but hope that he would feel the same when she was hurt. But she doubted it. They were friends, but she was no Brigit. Hermione bet that he would cry his eyes out if Brigit so much as got a paper cut. But, not to worry Ron, plastic doesn't scratch easily.
Fudge sighed loudly and said, "He's alive." Yet again Sherlock, I must tell you; no shit. "But he is unconscious. The doctors said that there is nothing they can do. He will wake up when he feels good and ready. So, since the doctors are of no use to Mr. Potter right now, we don't think it is necessary to keep him in a hospital." He finished with a greasy smile. Yes, smiles can be greasy. Go look at a car salesman's smile, and you tell me that its not greasy.
"So what do you want us to do?" Hermione asked, feeling that if she didn't do something productive now, she was going to snap.
"Well, it would be absolutely sporting of you if you could stay and look after Mr. Potter." Fudge said, with another one of his greasy smiles that made Hermione want to knock all of the teeth out of his head. "You know, make sure that he's okay, and call us as soon as he wakes up."
"Of course." Hermione said. She turned to Ron and looked up at him hopefully.
"I donno." Ron said softly.
Misery needs company.
"I mean, Brigit only in town a few more days..."
That stupid bitch can keep herself busy trying to figure out how to do basic math. It's an extraordinary feet, but I'm confident in her abilities. If she can figure out a way to fuck a guy as enormous as Fudge, then I'm pretty sure she can decipher two plus two.
"But I guess she could just come down here with us."
NO! "Sounds lovely." Hermione said in a voice that made her want to vomit. God, who was she becoming, Brigit?
Hermione sat next to Harry's bed side until everyone except Ron left. She tried to concentrate on worrying about Harry, like all good friends are expected to, but Hermione knew that her heartless soul had other plans. They were planning different ways to kill Brigit. Chainsaw? No, too noisy. Knife? No, too common. Lead pipe? No, too Clue. But her evil thoughts were interrupted when Ron's cell phone rang.
"Hi Brigit." Ron said happily. Hermione mentally gagged herself. "What's up?.... you are?... when?.... okay.... okay..... I'll see you then, k?..... alright. Bye." He hung up the phone. Hermione had been eavesdropping, and she felt that she had learned nothing new listening to this conversation.
"Brigit's going to L. A. tonight." Ron said with a frown.
Praise the Lord! "That's too bad." Hermione lied. "I thought she wasn't leaving for a few more days."
"So did I. But they moved her shoot to another day." Ron said. "It's too bad, too. Because I could tell that you and her were getting alone real well."
Ah, Ron, you and your stupidity.
"You liked her, didn't you?" Ron asked hopefully.
Yea, I love girls who steal the only boy I've ever loved, making it impossible for me to love anyone again. They're just peachy. "Of course I did."
They sat in silence for about an hour. Hermione didn't care. Sure, the silence might have been uncomfortable, but she had other things on her mind. Like trying to calculate how many days were going to go by before Ron was back on the market. He usually dumped his girlfriends in a matter of weeks, depending on their cup size. The bigger the boobs, the longer they'd stay together. Nine out of ten times, the boobs were... well, lets just say that, if the girl was drowning, her boobs would pass as a life raft.
Not that Hermione cared when Ron was back to being single. She knew, after many painful years of being in love with him, that Ron would never like her. Her flame for him had burnt out, and it's ashes replaced her heart.
There was a knock on the door, and since Hermione was sick of thinking about depressing things, she decided to answer it. Unfortunately, an even more depressing thing, wearing Gucci and pushing out her chest as far as humanly possible, greeted Hermione when she opened the door.
"Hi!" Brigit said in an upbeat voice that could only belong to a former cheerleader.
"Brigit!" Ron yelled happily. Ron's girlfriend pushed past Hermione and jumped into his arms. "I thought you were going to L. A."
"I was! But then I thought, 'If I was Ron, where would I want me to be, if I was me?'" Brigit said. Hermione knew that this sentence, like most things Brigit said, made absolutely no sense. The only thing that did make sense to Hermione, was that Brigit was the devil, and that she had to be destroyed. Unfortunately, Brigit had other plans.
"I can only stay a bit Ronniekins." Brigit said, sitting down on his lap. She ruffled his hair and giggled as he started to kiss her neck.
Hermione excused herself, wanting to go throw up, but deciding that Brigit would not be the thing that made her bulimic. Instead, Hermione went to the kitchen. Since there wasn't any kind of office work for her to do, to get her mind off of Ron and his little playboy model, she decided to bake. Granted, she had no idea how to make a salad, let alone food that she would actually want to eat. But, thank Merlin, there was such thing as a cook book. And if there was a book, Hermione could do it.
After spilling most of the ingredients on the floor, burning what was left of them, and being asked multiple times if she needed any help, Hermione was about ready to give up. But, suddenly, a little voice came into her head.
'Don't give up, Hermione.' Said an enthusiastic but sweet little voice. 'Try and try again. If you fall off the horse, get right back on. Take baby steps. Never give up, never surrender.'
"Fuck off." Hermione said to the voice.
"What's that Hermione?" Ron asked, taking time out of his making out with Brigit to hear the tiniest thing.
"I said... dinner's ready." Hermione said quickly. And with a flick of the wand, the mess was clean, and a beautiful four course meal was on the kitchen table. No trace of the horrible mess that was Hermione trying to cook was left, and no one was the wiser.
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A/N: Now, like all respectful authors, I will beg and plead for you to review....so.... REVIEW!!!!!
BTW: If you want me to e-mail you when I update, just tell me your e-mail address in the review. I'd be happy to
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Chapter 2: I Didn't Know the Devil Wore Gucci
When Hermione and Ron arrived at Harry's apartment, it was already filled to a breaking point with doctors and Ministry of Magic people. Fudge quickly found them, and tried to explain. But before he could say anything, Hermione cut in.
"Where's Harry?" She asked sternly, loving the way Fudge shuddered at her forcefulness.
"He's in his bedroom." Fudge said. "But I don't think you should go in there." But Hermione didn't care. She pushed past her boss and a silent, but impressed Ron followed her.
There were so many people around Harry's bed, Hermione felt like she'd need a machete to cut though them all. She was finally able, after standing on her tip toes, to see Harry lying on his bed. He looked like he was sleeping. Everything looked okay, no cuts or bruises. Except for his scar. It was glowing green. Ron and Hermione pushed past a couple other doctors, and were at the side of Harry's bed. Fudge, the little leech that he was, slide up next to Hermione and said, "It was Voldemort."
No shit, Sherlock. "Really?" Hermione asked, succeeding in keeping all of the sarcasm out of her voice. She didn't want to be unemployed any time soon.
"Yes." Fudge said wisely. Hermione held back the urge to roll her eyes. "He attacked Harry." God! Did this guy know anything that was of importance to her?!
"Is he alright?" Ron asked, a look of deep concern in his eyes. Hermione couldn't help but hope that he would feel the same when she was hurt. But she doubted it. They were friends, but she was no Brigit. Hermione bet that he would cry his eyes out if Brigit so much as got a paper cut. But, not to worry Ron, plastic doesn't scratch easily.
Fudge sighed loudly and said, "He's alive." Yet again Sherlock, I must tell you; no shit. "But he is unconscious. The doctors said that there is nothing they can do. He will wake up when he feels good and ready. So, since the doctors are of no use to Mr. Potter right now, we don't think it is necessary to keep him in a hospital." He finished with a greasy smile. Yes, smiles can be greasy. Go look at a car salesman's smile, and you tell me that its not greasy.
"So what do you want us to do?" Hermione asked, feeling that if she didn't do something productive now, she was going to snap.
"Well, it would be absolutely sporting of you if you could stay and look after Mr. Potter." Fudge said, with another one of his greasy smiles that made Hermione want to knock all of the teeth out of his head. "You know, make sure that he's okay, and call us as soon as he wakes up."
"Of course." Hermione said. She turned to Ron and looked up at him hopefully.
"I donno." Ron said softly.
Misery needs company.
"I mean, Brigit only in town a few more days..."
That stupid bitch can keep herself busy trying to figure out how to do basic math. It's an extraordinary feet, but I'm confident in her abilities. If she can figure out a way to fuck a guy as enormous as Fudge, then I'm pretty sure she can decipher two plus two.
"But I guess she could just come down here with us."
NO! "Sounds lovely." Hermione said in a voice that made her want to vomit. God, who was she becoming, Brigit?
Hermione sat next to Harry's bed side until everyone except Ron left. She tried to concentrate on worrying about Harry, like all good friends are expected to, but Hermione knew that her heartless soul had other plans. They were planning different ways to kill Brigit. Chainsaw? No, too noisy. Knife? No, too common. Lead pipe? No, too Clue. But her evil thoughts were interrupted when Ron's cell phone rang.
"Hi Brigit." Ron said happily. Hermione mentally gagged herself. "What's up?.... you are?... when?.... okay.... okay..... I'll see you then, k?..... alright. Bye." He hung up the phone. Hermione had been eavesdropping, and she felt that she had learned nothing new listening to this conversation.
"Brigit's going to L. A. tonight." Ron said with a frown.
Praise the Lord! "That's too bad." Hermione lied. "I thought she wasn't leaving for a few more days."
"So did I. But they moved her shoot to another day." Ron said. "It's too bad, too. Because I could tell that you and her were getting alone real well."
Ah, Ron, you and your stupidity.
"You liked her, didn't you?" Ron asked hopefully.
Yea, I love girls who steal the only boy I've ever loved, making it impossible for me to love anyone again. They're just peachy. "Of course I did."
They sat in silence for about an hour. Hermione didn't care. Sure, the silence might have been uncomfortable, but she had other things on her mind. Like trying to calculate how many days were going to go by before Ron was back on the market. He usually dumped his girlfriends in a matter of weeks, depending on their cup size. The bigger the boobs, the longer they'd stay together. Nine out of ten times, the boobs were... well, lets just say that, if the girl was drowning, her boobs would pass as a life raft.
Not that Hermione cared when Ron was back to being single. She knew, after many painful years of being in love with him, that Ron would never like her. Her flame for him had burnt out, and it's ashes replaced her heart.
There was a knock on the door, and since Hermione was sick of thinking about depressing things, she decided to answer it. Unfortunately, an even more depressing thing, wearing Gucci and pushing out her chest as far as humanly possible, greeted Hermione when she opened the door.
"Hi!" Brigit said in an upbeat voice that could only belong to a former cheerleader.
"Brigit!" Ron yelled happily. Ron's girlfriend pushed past Hermione and jumped into his arms. "I thought you were going to L. A."
"I was! But then I thought, 'If I was Ron, where would I want me to be, if I was me?'" Brigit said. Hermione knew that this sentence, like most things Brigit said, made absolutely no sense. The only thing that did make sense to Hermione, was that Brigit was the devil, and that she had to be destroyed. Unfortunately, Brigit had other plans.
"I can only stay a bit Ronniekins." Brigit said, sitting down on his lap. She ruffled his hair and giggled as he started to kiss her neck.
Hermione excused herself, wanting to go throw up, but deciding that Brigit would not be the thing that made her bulimic. Instead, Hermione went to the kitchen. Since there wasn't any kind of office work for her to do, to get her mind off of Ron and his little playboy model, she decided to bake. Granted, she had no idea how to make a salad, let alone food that she would actually want to eat. But, thank Merlin, there was such thing as a cook book. And if there was a book, Hermione could do it.
After spilling most of the ingredients on the floor, burning what was left of them, and being asked multiple times if she needed any help, Hermione was about ready to give up. But, suddenly, a little voice came into her head.
'Don't give up, Hermione.' Said an enthusiastic but sweet little voice. 'Try and try again. If you fall off the horse, get right back on. Take baby steps. Never give up, never surrender.'
"Fuck off." Hermione said to the voice.
"What's that Hermione?" Ron asked, taking time out of his making out with Brigit to hear the tiniest thing.
"I said... dinner's ready." Hermione said quickly. And with a flick of the wand, the mess was clean, and a beautiful four course meal was on the kitchen table. No trace of the horrible mess that was Hermione trying to cook was left, and no one was the wiser.
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A/N: Now, like all respectful authors, I will beg and plead for you to review....so.... REVIEW!!!!!
BTW: If you want me to e-mail you when I update, just tell me your e-mail address in the review. I'd be happy to