CHATER EIGHT – WRAPPING UP THE PLOT…OR NOT…
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. dances and I'm glad. Because he probably isn't very tidy. On with the shit!
Draco was doing sit-ups in the Slytherin common room. His angelic feet were tucked under a heavy green leather sofa. His shirtless upper body was streaked with sweat, his flaxen locks, soaked.
Crabbe tried not to drool. Ever since he had brought some pills that were supposed to help him play Quidditch from a stranger in the Hog's Head, he had been noticing some…changes. Sure, he was hitting things, namely Bludgers, a whole helluva lot harder, but there were other changes as well. He often caught himself staring at body parts boys don't normally stare at on other boys, mainly Draco. Also, certain parts of his own body were shrinking.
Snape didn't even hide his drool.
Draco finished, collapsing unto the floor with a tired noise. Several first-years rushed over, offering water, their virginity, and other assorted gifts. He took a water bottle with thanks and refused the rest. He sent them away, slapping them on the butt as they left.
(A/N: shrug Slytherins are gay…)
Draco jerked his luminous head to flip his corn silk-blonde hair out of his dreamy steel gray eyes, which were framed by smoky pale lashes. He smiled at his professor, showing pallid teeth and healthy gums. He did brush faithfully every day.
At this point, while Draco was being exceedingly sexy and turning an awful lot of heads, Hermione waltzed in. She was wearing a magenta sequin halter top, a micro-miniskirt with a little ruffle at the bottom, and chunky platform shoes that made obnoxious clunking noises when she walked. "Draco baby," she slurred drunkenly, "I'm here for you. TAKE ME!" She threw her arms wide and flung her head back.
"How. The hell. Did you get in here?" Draco said, in shock.
Hermione smiled in what she thought was a sly and mysterious manner and staggered haphazardly over to a stunned Malfoy, draping herself on his form. "I…" he could smell the alcohol in her rancid breath, "I slipped—" she hiccupped, "—that—guy. You know, the one with the…" she gestured vaguely at the air. "The—thing. On his head. I slipped him a galleon, and I was like, I told him, 'YOU CAN'T—" she muttered into the god-like Slytherin's shoulder for a while, then raised her voice again, "—AND NO PICKLES!"
"Are you drunk?" Draco asked, somewhat stupidly.
"I was so—hot—" she poked his chest for emphasis, "I figured you want to sex me SO BAD. So I came over here, and here I am. Here."
"FINE. If I have my way with you, will you please leave?"
Hermione blinked. "You mean you will?"
"…Sure…what's the harm?"
She was getting excited. "Do you want to do a threesome? That would be sooo groovy!" She slobbered a little bit.
"…Why not? Who were you thinking?" Draco did his best to hide the boredom in his arousing voice.
"I bet HARRY would do it if I asked him. I'll go do that now…" she started to walk away, but after taking one step, fell over, and passed out.
When she woke up, she was in a bed. It was dark. She sat up, and immediately regretted it, as her head throbbed. How had she gotten here? She tried to think, but it hurt her hurt too much. She would remember later. Right now she wanted to rest…
Ginny walked down the hall, her red hair in her face to hide her hate. She resented this school. No one accepted her for who she was. Not that motherfucker Molly, not Frank, not anyone. She was all alone. She was alone with her dark thoughts, disappointment flooding through her veins, cold as ice. She thought about the bottle of hair dye potion she had stolen from Snape's stores. It was in her pocket, she could feel the warm glass. She made a detour to the bathroom.
She put her head in the sink, running the water. It was cold. She didn't care. She wet her hair, massaged in the potion, and rinsed it. She put some in her eyebrows too. Looking in the mirror at her black new hair, she smiled shyly. She grinned widely when she realized she was alone.
Next was her uniform. Her removed her skirt and used a charm to take off six inches, making it shorter. She took off her vest, loosened her tie, and opened her robes so they billowed dramatically behind her when she walked. She put her skirt back on. It was a little shorter than she intended, but oh well.
Hermione was feeling slightly better when she awoke the second time. Being that damn annoying takes a lot out of you. Ask anyone. The last thing she remembered was being in the kitchen with Dumbledore, knocking back a couple Fire Whiskeys. Then the elves had been irritating, so they'd given them the day off. Then…then what? Images of Dumbledore dancing floated through her abused brain. Oh yes, she thought, the headmaster was a terrible dancer. I sure showed him. He didn't know a thing. It was funny teaching him the Harlem shake, she had to say.
Reality struck brutally. She had gotten skanked up to find that bitch Ronald and shag him, but found Professor Dumbledore, who was willing to share his booze, instead. Then she'd gotten wasted. Where the hell was she? She looked around blearily, sitting up from the green Power Rangers bedding. There were posters of Victor Krum, her ex-boyfriend in his retarded Quidditch outfits, showing off, topless girls, and what looked like kitchen appliances. She scratched her head.
Malfoy walked in, holding a tray with tea and shit on it. "Here." He held it out to her.
"Thank you," Hermione carefully removed the mug from the tray and sipped, suddenly aware of the fact that her hair was a greasy poof. "Err…d'you mind…not mentioning any of this to, um, anyone?"
Malfoy didn't say anything. He put the tray down, hiding a smile. He left and said over his shoulder, "If you want anything to wear, my robes are in the trunk."
Hermione's eyes widened when she realized whose bed she must be in. With a shriek, she leapt out and saw she'd ripped her flimsy sequin top dancing, or passing out, or something. Fuck. She dug through the trunk the Slytherin had mentioned until she found some robes without mysterious white stains on them. As she took off her shirt, she felt like she was being watched, besides by the poster of Krum. She was glad she'd worn a bra today. Dressed, she snarffed the donuts (or PASTIES, as the English call them) and gulped the rest of the tea.
As if he'd been waiting for this cue, Malfoy came in a sat down on his bed. Hermione couldn't find anywhere else to sit, so she stood. They looked at each other for a second, and then Hermione felt it was necessary to explain, "I was drunk."
"I could tell."
"Did I, um, molest you?"
"No." Malfoy had and evil idea, like he often did. "Well, a little. You know. Tried to grab bits of me, and, you know, attempted servicing me."
"Did we…?"
"Depends on what you qualify as…yeah."
"Oh my God. What did I do?"
"You came in, yelling for me to 'take you', and came over to me and started, like, sucking on my shoulder. That's when you got grab-by. So I took you up here to let you sleep it off, but the last thing you wanted to do was sleep."
"OH MY GOD!"
"But you passed out before you could do any terrible damage."
Hermione scuttled away. On her way to her room, she bumped into Ginny. Ginny looked surprised at first, and then smiled at her. Her hair was black. She winked suggestively. "Hey Herm," she greeted.
"Er…" Hermione was a bit thrown off by the abusing of her name, as we all were. "…hi Ginny."
"How are you?"
"LEAVE ME ALONE!" Hermione yelled in a very spastic manner, scampering away. She decided against going to her room and left the castle. She crossed the grounds and burst in on Hagrid, who wasn't doing anything you sick people! He was watering his pants. I mean plants. ANYWAY.
"Allo, 'Ermione," the thug grunted brutishly.
Hermione briskly greeted him. "Hello Hagrid."
"Whasser matter, 'Ermione?"
"Oh Hagrid, I had just a dreadful day. I got drunk and tried to sex Draco. But I passed out. How was your day?"
"S'Alright," Hagrid said.
KAY, I'M GOING TO SKIP TO THE NEXT MORNING BECAUSE THIS IS BORING AND I WANT TO GET ON WITH IT, PLUS I'M LAZY AND I DON'T KNOW WHERE I WAS GOING WITH THAT SO HERE WE GO…
In the Daily Prophet the next morning was some surprising news. Hermione read it out loud to Harry, who was the only one brave enough to sit near her, for fear that something might crawl out of her hair and attack them. "I'm a GANGSTA." H. Potta was saying. "A STAIGHT UP—"
Hermione rudely interrupted him in her annoying whiney voice. Potta's eye twitched. "'Last night the notorious Lord Voldemort'—I see they're printing his name now—'was CAPTURED at approximately two in the morning. He was buying a six-pack of Red Bull at a local Seven Eleven at around midnight. He was caught by Arnold Stickshift, an Auror who happened to have a cash register fetish and was working the late shift. There was struggle, but thanks to quick actions by the Ministry, Voldemort was speedily incarcerated.' Do you see what this means Harry? You're FREE! No more scar whining! I mean pain! For you."
"I coulda busted his ugly pale ass anyways if I wanted."
Hermione was getting excited. "THIS CALLS FOR A CELEBRATION! BEER, WIZARD LIQUOR, TOPLESS TABLE DANCING AND POOL!"
"I found a bunny rabbit."
"What?"
"I found a little bunny rabbit. On the floor."
"Um, the Dark Lord was just been caught and you're banging on about a rabbit."
"He should be mine and I shall call him…Bunny."
"Original."
"OHMIFUCKINGGOD IS THAT YOUR BUNNY? SOOOOO CUTE!" A hoard of bouncy girls with their perky boobs hanging out of the top of their robes trotted over.
"Rrrrr…" Hermione growled darkly.
"Bunny is a thug." Harry Potter nodded in approval. "G-Unit."
Malfoy raced past, pursued by a gang of thirteen-year-old fan girls clad in kitty-emblemized shirts and clutching napkins, screaming, "WE GET YOU, DRACO! YOU'RE JUST MISUNDERSTOOD!"
One, with frizzy blonde hair, screeched, "YOU WERE ABUSED BY YOUR FATHER!"
"YOU'RE IN LOVE WITH—"
"—HERMIONE!"
"—HARRY!"
"—GINNY!"
He tried in vain to yell over his shoulder that he wasn't fucking in love with any of the above mentioned, but nobody was listening.
"WE'LL LISTEN TO YOUR TROUBLES, DRACO! YOU JUST WANT TO BE LOVED! COME TALK ABOUT FEELINGS AND HAVE COFFEE!"
(A/N: O.o Maybe that's enough COOL GREEN APPLE gum for me…chews loudly)
Anyway, back to Harry, Bunny, and Hermione…
Bunny was being passed around and Bridget sidled over to Harry Potter. She sat on his lap. H. Potta asked her, "How did those shit-wads know where to find that nizzle Drake Cake, ho'?"
"Someone tipped them off." Bridget raised her eyebrows. "Since when have you been such a gangster?"
"Since today, bitch. Get off me, motherfucker." He shoved her off. "Whore, don't cheat on Ron with me."
"Sor-ry. We broke up anyways."
"Why?"
"I cheated on him with that ho' Seamus. I don't know what he's so upset about, it was only one night. Meaningless sex…oh well."
"You are a sick, twisted human being."
"Thanks Harry. You're alright yourself."
It was then that Harry Potter realized he hadn't been speaking with an accent. "Damn." He went off into the night.
Okay, it was morning. You get the idea.
"I think Hogwarts needs a rock band." Harry Potter, now back to normal, was telling his dormitory. "Neville can be the drummer, because the drummer is always ugly, and let's see…Seamus can be on keyboard, Dean can be a guitarist, Ron on bass, and me as the lead singer, of course. We shall be—" he unveiled a poster no one had noticed before, "—Harry Pooter and the Typoz!" The poster had a picture of Harry Potter bent down yelling into a microphone on a dark stage surrounded by glum-looking band members with their instruments. Harry's hair was styled in a slight Mohawk and wearing black, but tastefully, and a red tie.
"I don't think I want to be part of a band that has that kind of an image." Seamus said.
"Whatever Seamus, you asshole. You just want to have more free time so you can try to sleep with Bridget. Just because she's easy doesn't mean you have to." Harry Potter spat because he was cranky. He needed a nap.
Seamus stood up. "You're such a ball-ache, Harry." He left.
Harry Potter scowled. "DAMNIT, now we need a keyboard person."
As if on cue, Ginny walked in. He hair was black, and she looked hot in a bad-dye job kind of way. Her skirt was short, that was for sure. "What are you guys doing?"
Harry Potter yelled exasperatedly (because this is MY story and he DOESN'T like Ginny) "Ginny! We are TRYING to think of a keyboard person guy for my band!"
Everyone waited for the obvious solution to sink in for Harry.
FIVE MINUTES LATER…
Ginny, pissed, began to leave. "WAIT! I've got it! Ginny, YOU can be the keyboardist!" His band members looked peevishly at him. "It's settled then. Welcome the Harry Pooter and the Typoz, Ginny."
I made up for the short chapter in exchange for a long one. Fair enough? I sure hope so because you don't have a choice. AHAHAHAH. NEXT WEEK (chapter): Horny Neville, hot Ginny, Harry's fun-filled interview, Bill, and fun! Tune in…same BAT TIME, same BAT PLACE.