Jenny: Sorry about the confusion. No, this isn't a HP/DM fic.
Now that we've got that cleaned up:
This is the disclaimer song.
It isnt very long.
I don't own anything and I'm not JKR or Yellowcard.
HEY!
In this chapter: Killer Pink, Ocean Avenue, Pente, and the Underprivilaged Overprivilaged
Oh, and by the way, I don't know what Dean is... so here, he's a Halfblood. As those prejeduced few would say.
~*~Hermione's POV~*~
"Zccccccccccccccccdzzzzzfttttttt..."
I slammed the Wizarding Radio in my room.
Slamslamslam.
"And now for the weather forcast!"
THERE we go. *Please, please, please, please can there be snow? Of any kind. Blizzard. Or a storm. A flurry, even.*
"Tomorrow it will be in the mid 20's."
A pause.
"With winds up to 35 MPH..."
Another pause! They were killing me.
"And..."
I narrowed my eyes. Yes, I am usually calm. But the fact that it was 5:30 in the morning (the radio woke me up too
early), I just had three cups of coffee (courtesy of Dobby), and I had been fiddling with the radio for 15 minutes
to find out whether we would have snow made me a little crazy.
"An 85% chance of snow!"
My eyes went wide. Snow?
"Yes, that's right, snow!"
SNOW! I jumped up excitedly, my arm knocking off the alarm clock and sending it straight into the wall I shared
with Blaise.
"WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?" Blaise yelled, rather grumpily. I heard her stomp up out of bed. Obviously not a
morning person.
A loud CLUNK! came from Blaise's room.
"Auuugh! Dammitdammitdammitdammitdammit..."
From my other wall, I heard Draco's groggy prostest of all this noise. (Isn't that great? I'm sandwiched with
Slytherins). Blaise kept carrying on, Draco groaned, pounded to his door, and slammed it- which got Dean up.
This wasn't good.
Time to go down and face some sleep-deprived teens.
~*~
I walked tentatively into the common room. Blaise was trying to drive steak knives into my body using her eyes.
Her straight blond hair was frizzy, she had on an ensemble made up of rentina-searing pink that didn't
compliment her skin tone very well (strange for someone as fashion-concious as she is): silky, short nightgown,
fuzzy slippers, and an eye cover. She looked very frightening, like a Victoria's Secret model from hell on a bad day.
I didn't look straight at her... I didn't want to go blind.
Draco, in comparison, looked ironically like an angel. His ice-blue eyes were still clouded from sleep, and he wasn't
wearing a shirt; just comfy, suspiciously muggle-looking cotton pants. He was leaning against the stone wall with
his hair loose around his face. Obviously, he hadn't quite come to terms with the fact he was awake.
"What the HELL was that, Granger?" Blaise spat.
"Shut up Blaise... you're too loud..." Draco murmured, slipping down the wall to a sitting position.
"Granger, you better have one HELL of a good explanation for waking me up-" she glanced at her watch "THREE
hours early. It is SATURDAY. What the HELL were you thinking?"
I grinned. Draco was like a cherub and Blaise was the opposite of her usual gaggingly sweet self. It wouldn't be so
bad if this was a permanent arrangement. But, of course, Draco's silence was too good to last.
"I know you're angry, Blaise," I spoke lightly. "But could you please not say 'hell' every other word? It's bad for my
virgin ears..."
Of course my ears were anything but virgin, living with a common room full of teenage boys. Even noble teenage
boys spoke 'crudely', as my mom would put it.
Draco, no longer looking the part of a heavenly being, looked up and smirked evilly. "I bet that's not the only thing
virgin about you, Granger."
At that moment, Dean stumbled in groggily, his eyes half closed.
"Can it, Malfoy, would you? It's too early for those jokes..."
"Couldn't go back to sleep either?" I asked sympathetically. I felt bad for Dean, but the Slytherins deserve it.
"Well, actually, I did... then I heard Blaise having a cordial talk with you. Okay, actually I heard a bunch of loud, and
yet undistinguishable murmuring, punctuated by a lot of 'hell's. Care to explain, oh Short-Tempered One?"
He turned to Blaise, opening his eyes all the way.
Baaaaaaaaaad idea.
"AAUGH!" he yelped, covering his eyes. "I'M BLIND! IT'S THE KILLER PINK! I'LL NEVER SEE AGAIN!!!!!!"
She glared sourly. "Shut up, twit. I'm going to go try to REPAIR THE DAMAGE the Mudblood did to me by waking me
up at this UNGODLY hour."
"Blaise, dear, YOU are ungodly. I'll... escort you up, shall I?" Draco Malfoy managed to look haughty in just pj bottoms.
I think Malfoys go under extensive Haughtiness Training.
"Sorry I woke you up, Dean."
"Eh, no problem. I just hope we didn't wake up the ickle 5th-years..."
"That would be pretty bad."
"Speaking of pretty bad, I'm still seeing white spots in my vision from that ghastly pink thing Zabini had got going
on."
"Victoria's Secret model from hell on a bad day, is what I thought."
Dean laughed, agreeing. It's nice to live with someone in touch with the muggle world.
"You wanna play Pente?" I asked him.
"Sure. I'll get the house elves to grab us some danishes and... coffee?"
"Milk for me. If I have any more caffine, I'll have a stroke. Or a spasm. Or a heart attack. Or something."
"Right-o," he grinned. "Milk it is."
Pente, milk, danishes, and the prospect of snow! Things were definately looking up.
~*~Draco's POV~*~
*Stupid Granger. * She had gotten Blaise into one of her Moods, which meant no snogging for me today. At least not
with Blaise.
After depositing the moody and extra-evil-looking Blaise at her door, I went back to my room, put on a t-shirt, and
ventured back downstairs.
In the middle of the 6 Year Prefects' Common Room, the Mudblood and Dean (I had a certain respect for the guy... I
saw him catch the snitch before Potter one time. Granted, Potter wasn't paying much attention, but that still deserves a
bit of merit) were playing a weird game and eating. Curiosity and the knowledge that if I didn't get involved I would be
bored out of my skull won over my hesitation to willingly go withing 3 feet of the Mudblood for purposes other than
insult or injury, and I ventured over.
"What's that?" I asked, nonchalant.
"Pente," Dean answered, not looking up from the board. Granger did, suprised.
"I repeat," I rolled my eyes. "What's that?"
"Strategy game. Like tic-tac-toe, sort of," Dean grunted.
I raised my eyebrows, waiting for further clarification, and Granger sighed.
"We each have stones of a certain color. You place the stones on the intersecting lines of the grid and try to get 5 in
a row: horizontally, vertically, or diagonally, one stone at a time. You can capture stones like this: see, I'm blue (x) and
Dean's green (o)," she took a few of Dean's stones she'd captured already and some of hers and placed two green ones
next to each other on an unused corner of the board. Then she took two of hers and placed them on the outside of
Dean's, like this: xoox.
"Now, see, since I surrounded his two, I get those. You win by capturing 15 stones or getting 5 in a row."
I nodded.
"Would you like to... play with us?" she said tentitavely. Dean raised an eyebrow, still thinking about his move.
I didn't feel like reading or tolerating Crabbe and Goyle... besides, this is one of the things that Granger couldn't shoot
her hand up in the air about. Why not?
"Three-way Pente? Sure."
I sat down. They made a new scoresheet, and we played for hours. The games were fast, but I liked it!
~*~
The games ended abruptly when Blaise sauntered down. She had the usual makeup caked on, her hair was ridgid in is
perfection, and she looked ravishing and cruel. As usual. One withering look from her and the knowledge that if I acted
like I had been ENJOYING playing some weird muggle game with a halfblood and a mudblood. Before she would think
that I was there on purpose, I shot up.
"You're retarded, Mudblood," I rushed out. Appearances and reputations suck sometimes.
"You've got that right," snorted Blaise.
"Go to a shrink, jerk," muttered Granger, looking confused.
And hurt?
I mean, like I cared. All I did was just play Penta or Penter or whatever. She'd get over it.
Dean shrugged.
Good to know he cared.
"Been there, done that. I am now persona non grata with half the Mungo's psychiatrists. They ~dared~ to catagorize me."
"Really, Mafloy. At what as? Insane Bouncing Ferret, Uncurable?"
"No," I glared. "As the Underprivilaged Overprivilaged. Naturally, my original shrink got fired." I grabbed Blaise's arm and
pretended to storm out of the common room.
"Great," Blaise said. I was going to ask that Dean kid about what Prof. Mentella said in our Symbolism class yesterday... Now I can't go back in there
without lookig like an idiot. Thanks a lot."
Then she stormed off.
Number of conflicts today: 8. Not bad.
~*~No POV~*~
Hours after the Pente game had broken up, Hermione got in the shower. It was large (about a 20' area), had a Screen Spell around it, and was tiled
in a night sky mosaic. She waved her wand and music began to play. She sang quietly along.
*There's a piece of you that's here with me
It's everywhere I go, it's everything I see
When I sleep, I dream and it gets me by
I can make believe that you're here tonight
That you're here tonight
If I could find you now things would get better
We could leave this town and run forever
I know somewhere, somehow we'll be together
Let your waves crash down on me and take me away
I remember the look in your eyes
When I told you that this was goodbye
You were begging me not tonight
Not here, not now
We're looking up at the same night sky
And keep pretending the sun will not rise
Be together for one more night
Somewhere, somehow...*
She sighed, lingered in the hot water for a few extra seconds. Padding across the room, she grabbed a towel, wrapped it around herself, and walked
into the hall smelling of roses, to her slight annoyance.
*I love roses,* Hermione mumbled mentally. *But I do believe that mom's birthday gift of all-rose toiletries was a bit much...*
She stopped dead in her tracks to see Malfoy leaning up against the wall.
"Malfoy?" she squeaked in disbelief, clutching her towel closer around her body.
"Yes," he chuckled. Then he raised an eyebrow. "You smell like my mother's garden, Granger. Who was that?"
"What, the music? Yellowcard... heard them in California when I visited my cousin."
"Ah."
A silence.
"Muggle music, then."
"Yes," she sighed in exasperation. "Muggles. Mudbloods. Making good music. Quite a shocker."
"Fine then," he said, starting to walk away. "If that's how you're going to be about it."
"Malfoy," she called. He paused. "What did you mean, 'Underprivilaged Overprivilaged'?"
"Quite simple, Granger. To sum it up, rich kids who have family problems that put them at a disadvantage to living a 'normal' life. Like a rich girl
who has all the latest brooms and clothes and has her own apartment in Paris, but who's father is an evil minion and whos mother is a druggie."
He paused.
"Like Blaise," he added.
"Like you," Hermione said pointedly.
"I don't like labels."
Hermione started to walk towards her door.
"By the way, Granger," he said lightly. "It's snowing."
~*~
There it is. Be that as it may, I'll go drink some tea.
Now that we've got that cleaned up:
This is the disclaimer song.
It isnt very long.
I don't own anything and I'm not JKR or Yellowcard.
HEY!
In this chapter: Killer Pink, Ocean Avenue, Pente, and the Underprivilaged Overprivilaged
Oh, and by the way, I don't know what Dean is... so here, he's a Halfblood. As those prejeduced few would say.
~*~Hermione's POV~*~
"Zccccccccccccccccdzzzzzfttttttt..."
I slammed the Wizarding Radio in my room.
Slamslamslam.
"And now for the weather forcast!"
THERE we go. *Please, please, please, please can there be snow? Of any kind. Blizzard. Or a storm. A flurry, even.*
"Tomorrow it will be in the mid 20's."
A pause.
"With winds up to 35 MPH..."
Another pause! They were killing me.
"And..."
I narrowed my eyes. Yes, I am usually calm. But the fact that it was 5:30 in the morning (the radio woke me up too
early), I just had three cups of coffee (courtesy of Dobby), and I had been fiddling with the radio for 15 minutes
to find out whether we would have snow made me a little crazy.
"An 85% chance of snow!"
My eyes went wide. Snow?
"Yes, that's right, snow!"
SNOW! I jumped up excitedly, my arm knocking off the alarm clock and sending it straight into the wall I shared
with Blaise.
"WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?" Blaise yelled, rather grumpily. I heard her stomp up out of bed. Obviously not a
morning person.
A loud CLUNK! came from Blaise's room.
"Auuugh! Dammitdammitdammitdammitdammit..."
From my other wall, I heard Draco's groggy prostest of all this noise. (Isn't that great? I'm sandwiched with
Slytherins). Blaise kept carrying on, Draco groaned, pounded to his door, and slammed it- which got Dean up.
This wasn't good.
Time to go down and face some sleep-deprived teens.
~*~
I walked tentatively into the common room. Blaise was trying to drive steak knives into my body using her eyes.
Her straight blond hair was frizzy, she had on an ensemble made up of rentina-searing pink that didn't
compliment her skin tone very well (strange for someone as fashion-concious as she is): silky, short nightgown,
fuzzy slippers, and an eye cover. She looked very frightening, like a Victoria's Secret model from hell on a bad day.
I didn't look straight at her... I didn't want to go blind.
Draco, in comparison, looked ironically like an angel. His ice-blue eyes were still clouded from sleep, and he wasn't
wearing a shirt; just comfy, suspiciously muggle-looking cotton pants. He was leaning against the stone wall with
his hair loose around his face. Obviously, he hadn't quite come to terms with the fact he was awake.
"What the HELL was that, Granger?" Blaise spat.
"Shut up Blaise... you're too loud..." Draco murmured, slipping down the wall to a sitting position.
"Granger, you better have one HELL of a good explanation for waking me up-" she glanced at her watch "THREE
hours early. It is SATURDAY. What the HELL were you thinking?"
I grinned. Draco was like a cherub and Blaise was the opposite of her usual gaggingly sweet self. It wouldn't be so
bad if this was a permanent arrangement. But, of course, Draco's silence was too good to last.
"I know you're angry, Blaise," I spoke lightly. "But could you please not say 'hell' every other word? It's bad for my
virgin ears..."
Of course my ears were anything but virgin, living with a common room full of teenage boys. Even noble teenage
boys spoke 'crudely', as my mom would put it.
Draco, no longer looking the part of a heavenly being, looked up and smirked evilly. "I bet that's not the only thing
virgin about you, Granger."
At that moment, Dean stumbled in groggily, his eyes half closed.
"Can it, Malfoy, would you? It's too early for those jokes..."
"Couldn't go back to sleep either?" I asked sympathetically. I felt bad for Dean, but the Slytherins deserve it.
"Well, actually, I did... then I heard Blaise having a cordial talk with you. Okay, actually I heard a bunch of loud, and
yet undistinguishable murmuring, punctuated by a lot of 'hell's. Care to explain, oh Short-Tempered One?"
He turned to Blaise, opening his eyes all the way.
Baaaaaaaaaad idea.
"AAUGH!" he yelped, covering his eyes. "I'M BLIND! IT'S THE KILLER PINK! I'LL NEVER SEE AGAIN!!!!!!"
She glared sourly. "Shut up, twit. I'm going to go try to REPAIR THE DAMAGE the Mudblood did to me by waking me
up at this UNGODLY hour."
"Blaise, dear, YOU are ungodly. I'll... escort you up, shall I?" Draco Malfoy managed to look haughty in just pj bottoms.
I think Malfoys go under extensive Haughtiness Training.
"Sorry I woke you up, Dean."
"Eh, no problem. I just hope we didn't wake up the ickle 5th-years..."
"That would be pretty bad."
"Speaking of pretty bad, I'm still seeing white spots in my vision from that ghastly pink thing Zabini had got going
on."
"Victoria's Secret model from hell on a bad day, is what I thought."
Dean laughed, agreeing. It's nice to live with someone in touch with the muggle world.
"You wanna play Pente?" I asked him.
"Sure. I'll get the house elves to grab us some danishes and... coffee?"
"Milk for me. If I have any more caffine, I'll have a stroke. Or a spasm. Or a heart attack. Or something."
"Right-o," he grinned. "Milk it is."
Pente, milk, danishes, and the prospect of snow! Things were definately looking up.
~*~Draco's POV~*~
*Stupid Granger. * She had gotten Blaise into one of her Moods, which meant no snogging for me today. At least not
with Blaise.
After depositing the moody and extra-evil-looking Blaise at her door, I went back to my room, put on a t-shirt, and
ventured back downstairs.
In the middle of the 6 Year Prefects' Common Room, the Mudblood and Dean (I had a certain respect for the guy... I
saw him catch the snitch before Potter one time. Granted, Potter wasn't paying much attention, but that still deserves a
bit of merit) were playing a weird game and eating. Curiosity and the knowledge that if I didn't get involved I would be
bored out of my skull won over my hesitation to willingly go withing 3 feet of the Mudblood for purposes other than
insult or injury, and I ventured over.
"What's that?" I asked, nonchalant.
"Pente," Dean answered, not looking up from the board. Granger did, suprised.
"I repeat," I rolled my eyes. "What's that?"
"Strategy game. Like tic-tac-toe, sort of," Dean grunted.
I raised my eyebrows, waiting for further clarification, and Granger sighed.
"We each have stones of a certain color. You place the stones on the intersecting lines of the grid and try to get 5 in
a row: horizontally, vertically, or diagonally, one stone at a time. You can capture stones like this: see, I'm blue (x) and
Dean's green (o)," she took a few of Dean's stones she'd captured already and some of hers and placed two green ones
next to each other on an unused corner of the board. Then she took two of hers and placed them on the outside of
Dean's, like this: xoox.
"Now, see, since I surrounded his two, I get those. You win by capturing 15 stones or getting 5 in a row."
I nodded.
"Would you like to... play with us?" she said tentitavely. Dean raised an eyebrow, still thinking about his move.
I didn't feel like reading or tolerating Crabbe and Goyle... besides, this is one of the things that Granger couldn't shoot
her hand up in the air about. Why not?
"Three-way Pente? Sure."
I sat down. They made a new scoresheet, and we played for hours. The games were fast, but I liked it!
~*~
The games ended abruptly when Blaise sauntered down. She had the usual makeup caked on, her hair was ridgid in is
perfection, and she looked ravishing and cruel. As usual. One withering look from her and the knowledge that if I acted
like I had been ENJOYING playing some weird muggle game with a halfblood and a mudblood. Before she would think
that I was there on purpose, I shot up.
"You're retarded, Mudblood," I rushed out. Appearances and reputations suck sometimes.
"You've got that right," snorted Blaise.
"Go to a shrink, jerk," muttered Granger, looking confused.
And hurt?
I mean, like I cared. All I did was just play Penta or Penter or whatever. She'd get over it.
Dean shrugged.
Good to know he cared.
"Been there, done that. I am now persona non grata with half the Mungo's psychiatrists. They ~dared~ to catagorize me."
"Really, Mafloy. At what as? Insane Bouncing Ferret, Uncurable?"
"No," I glared. "As the Underprivilaged Overprivilaged. Naturally, my original shrink got fired." I grabbed Blaise's arm and
pretended to storm out of the common room.
"Great," Blaise said. I was going to ask that Dean kid about what Prof. Mentella said in our Symbolism class yesterday... Now I can't go back in there
without lookig like an idiot. Thanks a lot."
Then she stormed off.
Number of conflicts today: 8. Not bad.
~*~No POV~*~
Hours after the Pente game had broken up, Hermione got in the shower. It was large (about a 20' area), had a Screen Spell around it, and was tiled
in a night sky mosaic. She waved her wand and music began to play. She sang quietly along.
*There's a piece of you that's here with me
It's everywhere I go, it's everything I see
When I sleep, I dream and it gets me by
I can make believe that you're here tonight
That you're here tonight
If I could find you now things would get better
We could leave this town and run forever
I know somewhere, somehow we'll be together
Let your waves crash down on me and take me away
I remember the look in your eyes
When I told you that this was goodbye
You were begging me not tonight
Not here, not now
We're looking up at the same night sky
And keep pretending the sun will not rise
Be together for one more night
Somewhere, somehow...*
She sighed, lingered in the hot water for a few extra seconds. Padding across the room, she grabbed a towel, wrapped it around herself, and walked
into the hall smelling of roses, to her slight annoyance.
*I love roses,* Hermione mumbled mentally. *But I do believe that mom's birthday gift of all-rose toiletries was a bit much...*
She stopped dead in her tracks to see Malfoy leaning up against the wall.
"Malfoy?" she squeaked in disbelief, clutching her towel closer around her body.
"Yes," he chuckled. Then he raised an eyebrow. "You smell like my mother's garden, Granger. Who was that?"
"What, the music? Yellowcard... heard them in California when I visited my cousin."
"Ah."
A silence.
"Muggle music, then."
"Yes," she sighed in exasperation. "Muggles. Mudbloods. Making good music. Quite a shocker."
"Fine then," he said, starting to walk away. "If that's how you're going to be about it."
"Malfoy," she called. He paused. "What did you mean, 'Underprivilaged Overprivilaged'?"
"Quite simple, Granger. To sum it up, rich kids who have family problems that put them at a disadvantage to living a 'normal' life. Like a rich girl
who has all the latest brooms and clothes and has her own apartment in Paris, but who's father is an evil minion and whos mother is a druggie."
He paused.
"Like Blaise," he added.
"Like you," Hermione said pointedly.
"I don't like labels."
Hermione started to walk towards her door.
"By the way, Granger," he said lightly. "It's snowing."
~*~
There it is. Be that as it may, I'll go drink some tea.
