I do not own Quizno's, any slice of the Harry Potter Pie, or the Charlie Daniels Band, although it would be fun wouldn't it? Please don't sue, it's just me and my hamster and I don't want to put her out in the cold for not paying rent.
My very first story ever! squee! Kinda AU depending on you look at it, just a friendly warning to diehard canon fans. This was originally intended to be a one shot and somehow morphed into two parts. Damn the Muses! Using my own story against me! #blah# are Harry's thoughts. Anyhoo, feedback is welcome, please be gentle! Read on!
Harry Potter sat in his office chair twirling his wand lazily in his hand. His eyes continuously drifted to his inbox, which had remained empty most of the morning. He knew instinctively that the emptiness would not last.
"Bored…bored…bored…boooored…I'm so very, very bored," He chanted under his breath. Eventually, (and seemingly against his will) it had morphed into a full jingle, complete with head bopping, shoulder shimmy, a guitar solo, and his wand as a makeshift drumstick.
Finally, when it seemed as though his imaginary audience had grown restless and begun to stage dive, he set his wand on the desk, sighed and let his head fall back. His eyes fell shut and he groaned slightly, Maybe I should take a nap…yes, that would be nice.
Life wasn't so bad being a Muse, (when it wasn't boring of course). He got to go on many a great adventure, got to get it on with some fine ladies, and still be home for dinner. Ok, so that wasn't true. Muses didn't technically have homes… unless a story called for it. They were figments of the imagination. Harry felt real enough to himself, but he knew he wasn't exactly real. Now, before you go feeling all bad for Harry, you should know the whole story….
The Muses all spent most of their time in 'The Office', an enormous complex without any real limits. No one was really sure how big it was, because once you were in it, it seemed to span into forever. The Muses could leave the building and wander off if they felt like it, but it was strongly discouraged, because without the characters, stories couldn't be written, resulting in writer's block and a whole mess of paperwork for the higher-ups in The Office.
There was a terrible hiccup in the system six months ago when one Mr. Draco Malfoy meandered out for a veggie sub from Quiznos and didn't return for three days. (#haha that was pretty funny! You should have seen the look on...#) hush Harry I'm telling a story! (#oh.. sorry.#)
Anyway, the characters spend most of their time in The Office waiting for the mail room to send up the duplicate copies of the plot bunnies (the originals having been placed in the authors head, sometimes to their great dismay), then as soon as the author caves, they high tail it over to the setting of the story and wait for direction.
Each character has his or her own office and living quarters (which are quite posh) and can go anywhere in the building they wish. So, just so you know, Harry isn't locked in a tiny office room somewhere for eternity—because we don't need the police showing up to The Office again after—(#That was something wasn't it? When Remus went mental and...#) Harry! Telling. A. Story. (#oh… right.#)
Glad you brought that up though Harry, I almost forgot to mention that characters are bound to their original forms while in The Office. Meaning, anyone from Harry Potter world can do magic and have memory of their 'real past'—meaning the novels. Imagine the mess when Spike from the Buffy the Vampire Slayer wing and Lucious Malfoy got into down by the water cooler last Monday. Whew… what a mess. Anyway, I hope I didn't confuse you… carry on Harry.
Yes well… Harry shifted into a more comfortable position and began to doze slightly. #Just a tiny little nap never hurt anyone, and it's not as though anyone checks on...# A violent fiddle riff caused him to sit upright suddenly.
"Devil went down to Georgia, he was looking for a soul to steal; he was in a bind cause he was way behind, and he was lookin to make a deal…"
Things had begun rattling off Harry's desk. His picture of Ron and Hermione, despite their desperate attempts to push against the edge of the frame and stay on the desk, toppled over before Harry could reach it. He snatched it up off the floor and made sure the glass wasn't broken before he put it back on the desk, a little rougher than he intended. Picture Ron, looked a bit dizzy, but Picture Hermione was standing firmly with her arms crossed glaring at the ceiling (and source of the humming music) right along with Harry.
He pushed back against the desk and let the rollers on his chair carry him over to the corner, his eyes never leaving the ceiling. He grasped the four foot wooden stick that resided there, and slowly rolled back to the desk with his teeth bared, as if stalking an imaginary prey somewhere near the lighting fixture. He stood and wrapped his hands around the bottom of the stick, holding it like a baseball bat. Then, without further preamble he rammed the other end into the ceiling as hard as he could.
Picture Ron covered his ears, but Picture Hermione just looked smugly at Harry, then the ceiling, as if giving her approval.
"SEVERUS! ENOUGH ALREADY!" Harry cried, wailing on the ceiling a few more times before lowering the stick and looking about wildly. He spotted his wand lying forgotten on the desk and cackled. He seized it and pointed it resolutely at the ceiling, for a moment fully planning to send Snape to ask the devil about the weather in Georgia personally. A bouncing and waving Picture Hermione distracted him, and he lowered the wand, knowing she was right. Hexing and cursing was strictly forbidden in the office building. Something about not paying that much for emergency medical care, oh, and it had, a few times in the past, set off the sprinkler system.
Instead he turned the wand on himself and cast the Sonorous charm. His voice now undoubtedly echoed through not only Snape's office, but the rest of the building. "SEVERUS! I'M NOT LISTENING TO THAT FOR ANOTHER EIGHT HOURS, LIKE YESTERDAY! SHUT IT DOWN BEFORE I TELL EVERYONE WHAT YOU SAID TO ME AT THE HOLIDAY PARTY!" He distinctly heard a needle scratch on a record, then blessed silence.
He fell back into his chair with an exhausted grin on his face, feeling as though he was some great gladiator that had just won a match. He cast the Quietus charm then looked down at his Pictured friends and saw that, since there was no paper in the picture, Picture Hermione had taken out some form of lipstick and had written on the stomach of (a very much embarrassed) Picture Ron Weasley, "What did he say at the party?" The "y" dipping dangerously close to Ron's danger zone and it looked as though that thought hadn't escaped him as he batted Hermione's hands away.
Harry grinned at the both of them, "Never you mind," he said. Hermione huffed and turned away from Harry, seeming interested in the same tree that had been in that picture since last year, when it was taken. Ron on the other hand was furiously scrubbing at his stomach with his sleeve.
In all the excitement, he hadn't realized that his inbox now had four envelopes in it, and as he watched, a fifth appeared with a pop. He clapped his hands together in excitement, and grabbed the small stack. He reversed the order (first come, first served) and ripped open the first envelope. He read the header, "Harry/Hagrid NC-17 Slash—" and promptly dropped it on the ground sliding it under his desk with his shoe. When he looked up, Picture Hermione was glaring at him.
"What 'Mione? I'm not about to get into that today. Remember the last slash story I starred in with Hagrid? I believe it involved fire whiskey, rock cakes, and a creature called a Gurkle," he leaned closer to the frame, "how's that mental picture?" he asked the horrified little snapshot.
"Sooooo," he said dramatically, "since I'm only allowed one veto a week, it seems like we have a winner!" He opened the envelope and read the header, then promptly dropped his head to the desk, causing Ron and Hermione to teeter a little again before tumbling over the edge of the desk.
"Son of a—"
TBC