But this interview with pottersues didn't go nearly as well as the first. To her great annoyance, Hermione had arrived to find a notice pinned to the imposing front door:
This Building Has Officially Been Declared A National Magical Heritage Site By Order of the Ministry of Magic. On A Totally Unrelated Matter, Many Thanks to pottersues For Her Kind Donation to the Department of International Magical Co-operation, Magical Trading Standards Division. Signed, Cornelius Fudge.
"Rats," said Hermione under her breath. Now she was going to have to be persuasive, and being persuasive wasn't something that came naturally to her. She preferred to have the upper hand in any sort of bargaining situation. Blackmail and threats were more her kind of thing. And this was her last chance, too, as she had realised when she checked her email back at the Gilded Keyboard.
From:
Re: a small favour
Dear Hermoine,
OMG, WTF? you want my help now?? well first of all, you can tell that pottersues bitch im not speaking to her nemore. second, it's a bit rich of you to ask me to do you a "small favour" when you and your damn friends are, like, a CONTINUAL thorn in my side and keep spoiling my plans for world domination and the destruction of dumbledore and mudbloods and so on and so forth. third, im not best pleased to hear you broke my sarkasmius, it was a pretty nice bit of spellwork and i was quite proud of it. but you people have no respect for the way i mite feel about stuff nowadays, have you.
so just remember, next time i run up against your boyfriend, im dealing with you FIRST, gotcha? and i am so sending spam to your stupid twee little email address.
Yours,
Voldemort
PS POTTERSUES SUXX
Oh well. It had been a long shot.
Now, however, it was even more important to get pottersues on her side, especially as there was a blizzard out, and pottersues wouldn't let her in.
"Go away," she shouted through the letterbox.
"Please?" said Hermione wheedlingly, shifting her feet up and down, trying to keep them from getting frostbitten.
"No," said pottersues. "God, you canon kids, you make me sick. Five full-length novels and one hundred fifty-two thousand three hundred and ten pieces of fanfiction, and you think the world owes you! Well I don't owe you anything, and I'm not helping your stupid Sue to re-Sue herself or de-Sue herself or whatever it is you want." Hermione could hear the sound of an angry kohlrabi barking on the other side of the door. "Besides, you know I can't do it by myself. And Voldemort's been pissed off with me ever since I sporked that fic he wrote about his so-called "daughter". God, how was I to know! What were the chances?!" She sighed. "No, I can't help you, and I wouldn't if I could. You might as well go."
Hermione decided to have one last try before giving up. With numb fingers she removed several pages from her pocket and stuck them through the letterbox. "Will you review my fic?" she asked, pleadingly. "It's a witty expose of what really goes on in the Common Room -"
The sound of paper being shredded by a rabid vegetable met Hermione's ears. A small flurry of confetti whirled out through the letterbox. "No," pottersues barked, "I won't. I'm not interested in parodies, and I don't take requests! Read the FAQ! Now get out of here, before I set the aubergines on you!"
Deciding she had done all she could, Hermione turned and trudged away into the snow.