It's been so long updating this chapter, and I don't really like it, but I did it anyway because I've neglected the poor story for so long. Anyway, thanks to everyone who's read and reviewed so far. I present you with: chapter six!
Hermione sat on her bed and cried. She didn't really know why she was crying, but it seems a very Party of Five thing to do; sit on your bed and cry in your prom dress on prom night, looking out of your bedroom window and wonder if you'll ever find the love of your life.
Her mother knocked on the door.
"Just leave me alone mother, I hate you!" Hermione shrieked dramatically. Her mother looked confused. "You never wanted me to do well in life, you regret having me! Well, I'm sorry if you got pregnant. I'm sorry you got stretch marks! I'm sorry that your boobs went all saggy and disgusting after you breastfed me and father left you! But I'm here and there's nothing you can do about it, so leave me alone!" With that final declaration of rebellion she flung herself onto her bed and cried harder.
"I er...was just going to tell you that your scar ridden date was downstairs," her mother said.
"Oh," said Hermione recomposing herself. "Thanks." She pushed past her mother who was now having a mini-breakdown in her bedroom. "See ya later mom!" she called happily.
Harry was waiting for her in the limo.
"Wow, it's beautiful," said Hermione breathlessly.
"Yeah," said Harry grinning, "I am aren't I?! So anyway, what have you been up to lately?"
"Nothing much," admitted Hermione. "In fact, nothing at all. The fact that the author hasn't updated in such a long time means I've been lifeless."
The pair stared at me accusingly while I contemplated whether to backspace the whole first part of this story.
"Yeah," said Harry joining in the bullying of poor defenceless me. "Who does he think he is, delaying it for so long? J.K Rowling? It's only some little fanfic parody thing, not an epic."
I didn't know how to respond to this, so I quickly fast forwarded the scene and they arrived at prom.
Harry stared at Draco longingly. He was wearing a tux and looking very suave. He didn't really know what suave meant but it sounded French and sophisticated so he decided that's how Draco looked. Although he would never admit it, he'd always had such strong feelings for him. But the fact that he was a Slytherin, and someday a death eater, and hated him since the first day of school meant that they could never be together.
"Draco I love you," Harry announced.
"I love you too!" Draco blurted out and the pair embraced in front of the entire school. Everyone clapped and whistled like it was a cheesy romantic comedy sort of film. Hermione predictably already knew and fast became Harry's fag hag. You could often catch her in San Francisco drinking cheap wine from a paper bag on Friday nights before returning home to live with her seven cats. Ron was obviously homophobic. He lived with five other brothers, you don't think he grew up without being used as their "tension reliever" did you? Blaise was the jealous one, which was useful, because we don't know too much about Blaise so we can make him into anything we want. I mean, we didn't know Blaise was a guy, let alone what his sexuality was.
"I've always loved you Harry," cried Draco. "The fact that I've hated you for five books now - and probably a sixth and seventh one too - doesn't matter at all to slash writers!" The pair embraced again.
"Er guys," interrupted Pansy who was dead a couple of chapters back but I need someone to say this line so I ignore that fact. "This story is meant to have a plot you know." They were understanding so they stopped tongue kissing (their tongues were predictably "wrestling for dominance" by the way - very cliché!) and got on with the plot.
Everyone was formed in a circle on the dance hall. It was very 50's Grease and suddenly a song blared from the speakers which made the guys and girls separate into two groups.
We made out under the dock, sang Draco cockily.
We stayed up til ten o'clock sang Harry dreamily.
Summer fun, something's begun but woah-oh oh those summer nights a WELLA WELLA HUH!
Tell me more tell me more was it love at first sight? sang Rita Skeeter jotting everything down with that acidic green quill she always has.
Meanwhile (and we need a "meanwhile" moment because that scene was unfunny) Blaise was busy plotting. As I said we don't know too much about him so I'm going to make him a plotter. He was plotting against Harry which makes him a Potter Plotter.
"If I tie a string onto this bucket and hoist it up into the air and then wait for the exact time that Harry will predictably be announced prom queen then I can drop the bucket causing all of this lovely tomato ketchup in the bucket that I have squeezed in there to fall on him," laughed Blaise delightfully. He cackled evilly.
Dumbledore - who is always drunk and eats with his mouth open F.Y.I - got up on stage and talked in his normal bumbling manner. He asked McGonagall to hand him the gold envelope (and its always got to be gold - I don't know why though...) and announced the winner to dramatic music
"Will you knock it off?" he roared angrily and the orchestra playing the dramatic music looked disheartened and packed their instruments away (yeah, I used that joke in the third chapter but I liked it so I said it again alright?)
"And the winner is..." said Dumbledore dramatically. He left it waiting for a long while - so much that Harry had to go to the bathroom and missed his name when it was called out. Luckily he was used to fame and glory having like, almost died like, a million times at the hands of the most powerful wizard in history, so he was very professionally prepared and floated onto the stage giving air kisses and squeals of delight.
"A real queen!" mused Snape and Flitwick agreed. Harry had shining tears in his eyes. He had never felt so happy. Everything was perfect. But...ew, what was that? Something just fell on his head. He hoped it wasn't bird poo.
"If Hedwig's escaped from her cage I'll wring that scrawny little owls neck," he thought angrily. But when he put his hand to his head and looked at what was on it, it was red.
"Dumbledore, DUMBLEDORE," he shrieked. "I always run to you every time something goes wrong and -"
"Yes I know Harry," sighed Dumbledore lazily, "you came to me with an untied shoelace last week. And the week before that -"
"ANYWAY," interrupted Harry crossly, "now I've found some red stuff on my hair and I don't know if its tomato ketchup about to drop on me from Blaise because he's jealous of the love I've had for Draco for so long but never knew, but I thought I should tell you in case it can somehow be connected to the scar on my forehead that always prickles and burns. And it burns as though a "white hot poker had touched it." Not a red hot poker, a white hot poker. There's a difference you know," he said importantly.
"Well we better get you to St Mungo's," said Dumbledore, "But maybe you should wait a few more minutes before going because if Blaise has planned on dropping tomato ketchup on you because of the love you've had for Draco so long but never knew, don't you think you should at least be courteous and let him finish it?"
"Fine, whatever," said Harry moodily. He didn't like it when things didn't go his way. As Dumbledore predicted (and whatever Dumbledore predicts happens, got it?) a bucket of tomato ketchup fell on Harry's head. He stood there covered in the icky red substance while all the bitchy queens were pointing and laughing at him.
He ran into the crowd and pushed his way through dramatically. He could have just took the side entrance but you just have to push your way through a crowd in these situations. He burst through the doors and ran out into the night. His dress (and I need him to have a dress because it needs to "blow in the wind." Dramatically.) As I was saying, his dress was blowing in the wind. Dramatically. He looked around through tear stained eyes and saw the teachers running out of school chasing him, calling out his name. He looked around desperately again and saw that Draco was on a motorbike outside the school.
Casting one final glance behind him, Harry ran over and jumped on the back of the motorbike. He was prepared to ride off into the night sky leaving his presence behind him in a tail of motorbike smoke but Draco was cheap and hadn't put any petrol in his bike so he trudged back to school glumly.