Disclaimer: Nope, still don't own it.
A/N: A million, trillion thanks to my homegirls at quietones. I am dedicating this chapter to 'Cella, whose enthusiasm really should not be allowed. :P
Hermione Granger Meets Fandom
Chapter 3 (or 2, rather) – "Inell Explains It All"
Inell manages to find yet another empty compartment and drags Hermione inside. "Okay," she tells Hermione, "do the Silencio thing or whatever you do. I mean, not that it really matters. All the other characters know what's going on. But maybe you should lock the door because half the school wants to shag you."
"Shag me?" Hermione exclaims. She thinks about it for a moment and then asks the question with a different intonation. "Shag me?"
"Well, of course," Inell replies. "Are you going to lock the door or not?"
"Can't you do it?"
"No," Inell answers bitingly. "Unfortunately, I am not a witch. I'll leave the spells up to you, and you leave the plot up to me. (Although I'm not writing this one...thank Merlin.)"
"I'm confused," Hermione admits, locking the compartment door. "You make it sound like I'm a character in a story or something."
"Bingo," Inell says with a grin. "They don't call you a know-it-all for nothing, do they?"
Hermione tries to look cross, but she decides that answers are more important than verbal sparring at the moment. "So none of this is real?"
"Oh, Hermione," Inell whispers, shaking her head, "none of this has ever been real. You are merely a character in a series created by a brilliant woman named J.K. Rowling. And you're not even the main character. That would be Harry."
"Well, that explains why everything always happens to him." Hermione begins pacing, and suddenly her eyes light up with realisation. "I get it!" she declares. "I am the voice of reason in the story, right?"
"Who did you expect to be the voice of reason? Ron?"
"Good point. So my life is nothing but fiction. I can handle that. But it still does not explain why Harry is smoking pot and listening to rap music, and Malfoy is surrounded by giggling girls."
Inell chuckles, crosses her legs, and removes her glasses. She shakes her head again and begins cleaning her glasses on her imitation Slytherin robes ($29.99 tax at the Warner Bros website). "You might want to sit down," she says.
Hermione reluctantly takes Inell up on her offer. She strongly considers conjuring a pen and a piece of parchment in order to take notes, but now does not seem to be the time or place for that. "All right," she concedes. "I'm sitting. Please explain."
"You see," Inell begins patiently, "everyone loves Harry Potter."
Hermione "tuts" loudly. "I knew that."
"Not the actual person," Inell continues. "And please, no more interruptions. I like you and everything, but I do have better things to do with my time. I own and moderate more Yahoo! Groups than you can shake a stick at." She ignores Hermione's blank expression and decides to refrain from further random internet references.
"As I was saying, everyone loves Harry Potter—as in the books. They were originally written for a young adult audience, but grown women like myself have become quite addicted to them. And, being the hopeless romantics that we are, we are determined to infinitely assess the relationship possibilities within the books."
"Like what?" Hermione asks suspiciously. "There's no romance at Hogwarts."
"Au contraire, mon cheri," Inell replies with a wink. "The author who created you and Harry and everyone else has been giving us little hints at romance all along. It's quite frustrating, actually."
"Hints? What hints?"
"Well, the most popular ship, for example, is Hermione and Ron."
"Ron and me?" Hermione says. "But we can't go five minutes without arguing!"
Inell just looks at Hermione knowingly.
"Oh," Hermione adds with a sheepish grin. "But why do you call it a ship?"
"It's short for relationship. Plus, there's the whole boat metaphor. You know... if I like you and Ron together, then I'm sailing the R/Hr ship. If I then decide at a later time that I'd rather see you with Harry, then I'm jumping ship. And if, by some odd chance, we all lose interest in you and Harry, then we say the ship is sinking. Furthermore, the word ship can be used as a noun, adjective or verb. It's very versatile."
"Wait a minute," Hermione interjects. "I'm going to need an example."
"All right," Inell concedes. She knew this was going to be complicated. Hell, she only agreed to it in the first place for the random possibility of getting to snog Lucius Malfoy. "I'll give you some examples. Ship can be a noun, as in, 'What ship do you sail?' Or an adjective, as in, 'This fic is too shippy for me.' Or a verb, as in, 'I ship Ron and Hermione.' Make sense?"
"Yes," Hermione replies. "In a really stupid and nonsensical way that makes me think you all have way too much time on your hands."
"Oh, we do, darling," Inell affirms. "We do."
"And where is the evidence for this absurdity?" Hermione questions Inell. Typical Hermione. She always needs evidence, doesn't she?
"Take, for example, Book 3," Inell says.
"Book 3?"
"The books correspond to your years at school. So Book 3 would be about—"
"Oh, when we found out about Sirius," Hermione says. "That was also the year I went a little...mental."
"You have no idea. We love you for that big ole slap you gave Malfoy."
"Yeah," Hermione admits with a dreamy smile, "that was certainly the pinnacle of my youth."
"And because of that random outburst, there are people who think you are destined to be with Malfoy."
"WHAT?!" Hermione screams. "Are they CRAZY?"
"The author of this fic seems to think so," Inell mumbles.
"And what, pray tell, is a fic?"
"I'm getting there. Merlin, you're impatient."
"You just told me that people are 'shipping' Malfoy and me!" Hermione exclaims, her cheeks bright red. "I hate him! HE hates ME! Wouldn't you be a little impatient?"
"Touché," Inell replies. "The term fic is short for fanfiction. Writing fanfiction is what we do with all of this spare time."
"When you're not shipping, that is," Hermione bites back bitterly.
"But that's the whole point!" Inell explains. "We write fanfiction in order to play out these fantasies we have about you and your sordid affairs."
"Sordid affairs?!" Hermione yells. "Well, now you just sound like Rita Skeeter."
"You know," Inell says, tapping her index finger on her lip thoughtfully, "you might be onto something there. Maybe Rowling was poking fun at us fanfiction authors with the character of Rita Skeeter."
"If the shoe fits—"
"Okay, okay. So we get a little freaky from time to time. Can you blame us? We hate our jobs, we're stressed out over school, and our boyfriends don't appreciate us. Surely you can understand that."
Hermione thinks briefly of her own stressful studies and of Ron's complete idiocy and shrugs her shoulders. "Okay," she says. "I guess I can see why you would act so odd."
"Thank you," Inell spits sarcastically. "Now that you approve, I'll just be moving on. Really, we have a lot of ground to cover."
"So you've said," Hermione responds. "Fanfiction, shipping, Malfoy and me..." Hermione cringes. "What else is there?"
"Well," Inell adds, shifting nervously, "there is also a little something called slash. But I don't think you're ready for that just yet. We'll save that one for a rainy day."
Thankfully, Hermione does not ask questions.
"Anyway," Inell continues, "we are in a fic right now. (A really meaningless one, by the way, that the author is using as a delay tactic because she can't figure out what to do with you and Blaise.)"
"Blaise?"
"Oh, you'll find out soon enough, I'm sure. The author is huge Blaise/Hermione shipper. Don't you see? This is your chance to do anything you've ever wanted to do without consequences!"
"Like win a Wizarding Nobel prize for freeing house elves?" Hermione suggests excitedly.
"No, that's boring," Inell tells her. "Nobody cares about the bloody house elves. Really. Not when you could be shagging a Slytherin."
"Why does it have to be a Slytherin?" Hermione pleads, somewhat deflated over having her house-elf liberation called boring.
"Oh, darling," Inell whispers knowingly, "just try one and you'll see. It doesn't have to be Malfoy. The authors of these fics don't really care."
"Who else is there?" Hermione asks with a snort. "Crabbe and Goyle?"
"Actually, I don't think I've ever read a Crabbe-Goyle-Hermione fic," Inell replies thoughtfully, getting ideas she should not be getting. After a moment, she says, "No, that's just not right. But anyone else is fair game. There are even fics where you are paired with...brace yourself...Marcus Flint."
"What?!" Hermione makes gagging noises. "You mean the bloke who bears an uncanny resemblance to the troll in our first year?"
"None other."
"That is truly disgusting."
"Watch it. I've paired you with Flint myself. And then there's Adrian Pucey. I never guessed that one would take off so well."
"Well, that's not too bad, I guess," Hermione responds, thinking back to the gorgeous seventh-year who helped her repack her trunk.
"Yeah, Adrian is sexy because he insists on calling you kitten," Inell says dreamily.
Hermione blushes.
"Moving on up the food chain, we have the brooding and quiet but deliciously alluring Blaise Zabini."
"Yeah, you've mentioned him. Who is he?"
"No one really knows," Inell answers. "In fact, we didn't even get confirmation that he was a boy until a few months ago. Not like that was going to stop us."
"I get the impression it would take an Unforgiveable Curse to stop you people."
"Now you're catching on. And some writers like to pair you with Snape."
"SNAPE?! You mean, the greasy, slimy, idiotic, ex-Death-Eater Potions professor Snape?!"
"I know it sounds crazy," Inell croons, patting Hermione on the leg sympathetically. "But it's all because of Alan Rickman. He plays Snape in the movies, and he's just too sexy to be allowed."
"There are movies?"
"Indeed."
"W-what do I-I look like?"
"Gorgeous, of course."
Hermione raises one eyebrow suspiciously.
"Well, gorgeous in the girl-next-door, low-key kind of way."
"And my hair?" Hermione asks self-consciously.
"We love your hair," Inell assures her. "Do you have any idea how many of us struggle with frizzy hair? You're like our role model."
Hermione forgets about her hair as an even worse thought comes to mind. "There aren't any...Hermione and...V-Voldemort shippers, are there?" she asks weakly.
Inell clears her throat. "I personally refuse to read that trash," she replies. "But yes, there are. And you've been in fics with Draco's dad, as well."
"But he's a Death-Eater! And he tried to get Buckbeak killed! For that matter, he tried to get ME killed!"
"Two words," Inell replies. "Jason Isaacs. And everyone loves the sexy, control-freak older man."
"I don't," Hermione spits assertively. "Yuk."
"And then there's Sirius, of course."
"Sirius?! But he's old enough to be my father! And he's—"
"SHHHHH!!!!!" Inell commands. "Don't go there. The author doesn't want to have to include a spoiler."
"A spoiler?"
"Totally irrelevant. The point is that being—you know what—doesn't stop Sirius from being the biggest stud-puppy to ever go through Hogwarts. This author named aleximoon did a great job with the Hr/SB ship, but we've just about given up on her. She hasn't updated in three months."
"Surely you don't mean to tell me that all these fics are about me?" Hermione says suddenly. "I mean, Lavender and Parvati are a lot prettier. And Tonks is older and more experienced. And Pansy—"
"Is Pansy," Inell says with a slight gagging noise. "Actually, your biggest competition is Ginny Weasley. But even Ginny doesn't hold a candle to you."
"I don't understand," Hermione whispers. "If no one cares about house-elves, then why would they want to write about me?"
"You don't get it, do you?" Inell shoots back with a delicate smile, her blue-green eyes shining brightly. "We love you. You are us. Most of us, like you, are students. We take everything way too seriously. We're too smart for our own good. We're plain Janes with frizzy hair, and this is our only outlet for our fantasies. We're extremely passionate about what we do, and we don't let anything stand in our way. And our boyfriends and husbands make Ron Weasley look like a sex god. Indeed, Miss Granger...you are our heroine."
Hermione blushes uncontrollably and fidgets quite a bit with the hem of her skirt. "So," she says at last, "I'm in a fic."
"It could be worse," Inell tells her. "You could be living in reality."
"Until ten minutes ago, I thought this was reality!"
"Are you kidding? You have perfect grades, every guy at Hogwarts wants a piece of you, and the world is at your mercy! What do you have to be worried about?"
"Er...there's always the fact that I'm a Muggle-born witch in the middle of a war for pureblood domination."
"Tut, tut," says Inell, shaking her head. "This is fanfiction, Hermione. The only danger you face is your own damn prudishness."
"WHAT?!"
"Just imagine.... Here we are.... No one is concerned about the Dark Arts because violence is secondary to sex. You don't have to worry about pregnancy or disease because you've got all kinds of charms to counter it. School doesn't matter because you'll only be going to classes when it fits in with the romance plot. And you could break every rule in the book, and you'd only get detention...(preferably with Malfoy, of course.) And we all know that either Gryffindor or love will rule supreme in the end."
"Hmmm..." Hermione mumbles, finally realising the possibilities.
"And all of that isn't even comparable to the real joy of being a fanfic character."
"What's the real joy, then?" Hermione asks hesitantly.
Inell simply smirks and clicks her pen. With a wink, she replies knowingly, "Unlimited virginity, of course."