A/N: I think my style changes every time I sit down to write this chapter, thus resulting in many failed attempts to continue along the same line as my previous one. Oh well. Read it anyway, and let me know what you think.

If you have a problem with it, tell me face to face! I can take it, I'm a big girl. And then I'll take you—I know how to shoot a gun.

. Love you guys!

Disclaimer: See previous entry

Mascara, Eyeliner, and Large Pointy Breasts

Hermione was cheerfully swinging her instantly long, tan legs when her two best friends came racing up to her.

"Hermione, Hi! Wow, have you grown!" Ron raced anxiously up to her, panting in the manner of a small puppy. Harry trailed behind.

"Hello Hermione, I have now decided that your name will vary between Mya, Mione, Hermy, Mia, Mona, and Jane. My life sucks."

"Oh! Poor Harry!" Hermione/Mya/Mione/Hermy/Mia/Mona/Jane pointed her overly large breasts in his general direction and simpered horribly, "Tell me about it!"

"Well, Voldemort is after me. I know he's after a lot of other people too, but he really hates me...and the Slytherins hate me, and this morning there weren't any bananas for me to put in my Cheerios..."

The author took a moment to describe Harry to the readers. This is necessary, because he is no longer the Harry Potter we know and maybe even Love. He was Goth, and was wearing baggy black pants, a Slipknot shirt, oodles of eyeliner, mascara, various bracelets, chokers, rings, black finger nail polish, combat boots, and white face-paint. He was no longer the skinny, scrawny, short boy that we left only a book ago. Now he was suddenly six feet tall and strong as an ox. All of this was accomplished through Quidditch training, despite the fact that that would require flying—which he could not do at the Dursleys'—and the fact that it takes no effort to fly.

"To summarize over dramatically so that everyone will feel sorry for me, everybody hates me."

A loud sighing noise was heard: it was the voices of hundreds of angst-ridden teenage girls feeling sorry for Harry.

"I'm poor." Ron piped up, "I have hand-me-down everything. I have to contend for attention with five older brothers and a younger sister. But that is okay, the author can go on for pages and pages describing Harry's eyeliner in detail and completely ignore me, it's fine!"

There was a silence—this was the sound of a key character being ignored.

Harry was gawking over Hermione's plethora of bodily changes, and the Laws of Time and Space were consoling Ron over being ignored (it's not so bad, after a while, you can eat all the chocolate truffles you like!) when Draco Malfoy decided to talk to Hermione—a hitherto unheard of action. So he snuck up behind her.

"Hermione," he began, in a thoroughly pathetic manner, "I have suddenly and without warning realized I am in love with you!"

"How coincidental!" Replied our blonde-bimbo heroine, turning around and not all surprised to see him there--she had randomly gotten powers of precognition, "For I have suddenly and without warning realized I love you as well!"

"Wait!" Harry popped up, greatly annoyed. Then, realizing Goths were not allowed to use exclamation points in anything aside from angsty rantings, he said in a morose tone, "wait."

"Oh Harry!" Hermione exclaimed, tears coursing down her face, "Why can't you support my new found love for our thus far mortal enemy? I cannot believe you would call me a traitor for this!" Sobbing hysterically, she raced onto the train, allowing the Laws of Space and Time to carry her luggage aboard.

"Hermione/Mya/Mione/Hermy/Mia/Mona/Jane!" Harry called, "Wait! We skipped the part where I accused you of turning your back on us!"

"And the part where I profess my undying love for you!" Ron yelled, "Also, the part where I got to hit Malfoy!"

"Oh, just get on the train!" The Laws of Space and Time hissed out of the train window, "We'll just take it from the beginning of Scene Three!"

A/N: I'm sorry.