Disclaimer: Nope, I don't own Harry Potter or any of these characters. This silly plot is mine.
Summary: The evil scheme is set in motion. My apologies in advance for the ridiculously dodgy use of magic in this chapter :p
A/N: I have to give credit to Sunny June 46, author of the very funny fic Customer Service. It was in CS that I read about MMails, an idea I'm borrowing (and tweaking a bit) for this chapter.
"Welcome to Wizard Wireless Ronald Weasley. You have 43 unread messages. Please choose text or hologram format," said a toneless, but squeaky house-elf voice. (For some bizarre reason, when wizards adopted muggle computer technology, they decided to use the creatures as the standard for magically enhanced computer vocalization.)
Ron blinked a few times. He had just stumbled into his flat after a long day at work. "Bloody hell," he muttered, before clicking on the "hologram" option.
He glanced through the in-box. There were 27 magical mails (mmails for short) from his mother. More than half of these were photos of his nieces and nephews, the rest were forwarded witch profiles she'd sent him from "BeWitched/BeWizard" the "Number One Database for finding Magical Love."
Strictly out of curiosity, he opened up one of the profiles and was blinded by a flash of pink-tinged light as the magical hologram of a rather perky looking blonde-haired witch popped out of the screen. "Howdy, handsome! My name is Barbie Brimstalker and I'm a 28-year-old witch from Houston, Texas in the good 'ol U.S. of A!" She smiled broadly and Ron had to shield his eyes from the glare of her pearly whites. The hologram appeared to check Ron out before exclaiming. "Well, your mother sure wasn't kidding, you are one fine looking hunk of redheaded wizardkind."
Ron blushed and said in a mortified tone, "Uh, you met my mum?"
"Sure thing, sugar!" With that Barbie launched into a monologue describing what she was looking for in a wizard. "I love moonlit rides by broomstick and long walks on the beach. I like a wizard who takes care of himself! I workout five times a week and I expect no less from my man. I enjoy quiet, one-on-one time with my hunny, but also like to let loose! I'm looking for someone who will put me first, ahead of things like the boys and Quidditch..."
At that last bit Ron closed the profile (unceremoniously sucking Barbie's image back into the monitor as she let out a shocked "Eek!")
He immediately deleted her profile along with all the others his mum had sent.
He continued to read through the rest of his in-box. Another 12 mmails were forwarded muggle jokes from his father, while Alastor Moody had sent him three chain mmails. When Ron opened them a disheveled Mad Eye hologram ominously promised "painful death or at the very least bad sex" if he didn't forward each to 20 people immediately.
That left one other missive, from Hermione, with the subject line: Getting to Know You. (Please don't delete! Very revealing!)
Ron opened it and his bushy-haired friend emerged from the screen.
"Hi Ron. I know I don't normally forward these types of mmails, but I got this from a co-worker and the results were so interesting, I just had to share it!" she explained. "This is a list of personal and fun questions with my responses. You can listen and learn a little more about me, then put in your own answers and send them off to your friends and family. Be sure to mmail me back too, so I can see what you have to say. Have fun!"
The Hermione image then put her hands on her hips, waiting for Ron to respond.
He looked away. He had a sudden sense of uneasiness. There was something off about Hermione sending him this type of correspondence. It wasn't like her. He recalled how she'd sent him a lengthy rant about something called "SPAM" and not to fill up her inbox with codswallop because she couldn't be arsed reading tales about some wizard in Nigeria who urgently needed assistance transferring Galleons to Gringotts. Ron turned this over in his brain for a minute or two. His head started to hurt. He looked back at "Holmione" (who was tapping her foot impatiently) and said, "Okay, go ahead."
A tiny elf voice asked. "Please state your full name."
The image responded promptly: "Hermione Jane Granger."
"What time do you wake up in the morning?"
"Six o'clock -- The early bird catches the worm," she stated enthusiastically.
(Ron rolled his eyes.)
"What's your secret weapon?"
"If I share that it won't be a secret anymore," she said smugly.
"What's under your bed?"
"Boxes filled with old papers, bills, contracts and letters," she paused then admitted, "and maybe a little dust."
"Favorite flower?"
"Roses, because they're beautiful but have thorns."
"Favorite flavor of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans?"
"Chocolate, of course."
"Describe your favorite pajamas."
"Cozy, warm flannels with little witch hats on them."
"Favorite spell?"
"Binding spells, because they ensure a wizard fulfills his obligations."
(Binding?)
"Morning person or night owl?"
"Definitely a morning person!"
"Owl post or MMail?"
"Since wizards got wise enough to recognize some muggle innovations are worth emulating, MMail," she said with a rather superior air.
(Ron rolled his eyes again.)
"Floo or Apparate?"
"Apparate. It's much more practical."
"Airstream or Winnebago?"
"Winnebago," she said with a mysterious smile.
(What the?)
"Confess something to the person who sent you this MMail."
"Remember that time I asked you to cover for me because I said I was ill? I was a bit under the weather, but I really wasn't that ill," she offered sheepishly.
(Hermione Granger, rebel, he thought sardonically.)
"Name someone you fancied at school who didn't know it."
"Dennis Creevey. He was surprisingly brave and quite clever."
(Ron choked.)
"Do you believe in love?"
"Yes," she said with conviction.
"What's the last spell you performed?"
"Accio, to locate a travel book on the Hoover Dam."
"Muggle guilty pleasure?"
"The Aussie soap Neighbours, I'm utterly addicted," she confessed.
"Current mood?"
She had a gleam in her eye before answering. "Hopeful."
The Hermione image looked hard at Ron then said bossily, "Now it's your turn. Just click on the forward mmail button and state your full name after the prompt." With that the image disappeared.
Ron stared vacantly at the screen for a few more minutes. "Well that was weird. Hermione's gone completely mental." He looked at the forward prompt a bit longer before finally hitting it.
The house-elf voice came on again. "State your full name, sir."
"Um, Ron Weasley."
"No sir, your full name."
"That is my full name!"
"Please sir, you must include your entire birth name for the 'getting to know you' charm to activate, including your middle name."
Ron made a face, then said, "Alright then, Ronald Bilius Weasley."
"What time do you wake up in the morning?"
"As late as I can."
"What's your secret weapon?"
"I'm a lot smarter than you wankers realize," he said, already planning to forward the message to Fred and George, among others.
"What's under your bed?"
"Bugger if I know," he said, a slightly concerned expression on his face as he momentarily contemplated the possible horrors he slept above.
"Favorite flower?"
"None, I'm no poof!" he said defensively. (Secretly, he preferred daisies.)
"Favorite flavor of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans?"
"Anything that's not dodgy, like vomit."
"Describe your favorite pajamas."
"My old Cannons singlet and boxers."
"Favorite spell?"
"Conjuring things." (By "things" he meant food.)
"Morning person or night owl?"
"Night."
"Owl post or MMail?"
"Owl post, all these mmails are bloody annoying," he said.
"Floo or Apparate?"
"Floo."
"Airstream or Winnebago?"
"Huh? Are these new broom brands?"
"Just answer the question."
Ron gaped. "Um, Airstream I guess." (It sounded more like a broom to him.)
"Confess something to the person who sent you this mmail."
"I can't believe you fancied Creevey. Were you daft?"
"That's not a confession," the elf voice said with a tone that nearly matched Hermione's know-it-all one.
Ron wracked his brains. "I listened in on you and Malfoy that time. I'm really sorry." Then he added quickly, "Harry made me do it!"
"Name someone you fancied at school who didn't know it."
"Daphne Greengrass, she was quite fit," he said.
"Try again."
"What?"
"You didn't like Daphne Greengrass. Try again."
"Fine, I had a tiny thing for Bulstrode," he said. "Before the operation!" he clarified, though it wasn't really necessary, since she'd clearly been a witch at Hogwarts.
"Ha! I knew it!"
Ron nearly fell off his chair, "What?"
"Never mind. Do you believe in love?"
"I think so."
"What's the last spell you performed?"
"Accio, to find my socks."
"Muggle guilty pleasure?"
"McDonald's Big Mac." (He got hungry just thinking of it. Well, okay, he was probably already hungry.)
"Current mood?"
"Bloody knackered."
There was a soft beep and then the elf voice said, "Well done sir. You may now send your 'getting to know you' mmail to Wizard Wireless users on your contacts list. Shall I go ahead, sir?"
Ron was feeling quite perplexed. Something didn't add up, but he was just too tired to figure it out. "Sure, go ahead."
There was another beep, this time louder, and the message was off.
Of course, what Ron didn't know was that the mmail was actually a rather complicated (and cloaked) binding magical contract. In order for the magic to work, it had just needed Ron to state his full name. Once he'd done this, it was officially created. And once Hermione and Draco worked out the exact logistics of their plan with Colin Creevey, it would activate on the dates they specified.
The document was first developed by Fred, George, Hermione and Draco. Then hacker extraordinaire Lee Jordan had magicked a number of stealth keywords--such as the name Creevey, contract, Hoover Dam and Winnebago--into the body of the meme Ron would see. It had duped him into the following:
"I Ronald Bilius Weasley, agree to the terms prepared by Hermione Jane Granger to be bound to the muggle Martin Creevey and travel--on dates determined by Ms. Granger--with Mr. Creevey and his family. I agree to visit several muggle landmarks, including the Hoover Dam and must only use muggle transport. To wit, a recreational vehicle known as a Winnebago. In order to fulfill this contractual obligation, I cannot perform magic for the duration of the contract period."
Draco heard the beeping sound go off in Hermione's bedroom. It was late (well past midnight) and they had both just drifted off to sleep.
He reached over and switched on her Wizard Wireless.
"Welcome to Wizard Wireless. Please inform Hermione Granger that an mmail binding charm has been submitted by Ronald Weasley."
Draco nudged Hermione in the side, "Wake up, love."
A wild head of hair that could have been Hermione (it was tough to tell), sat up slowly. She parted the waves that covered her face, causing Draco to smile (he was so whipped). "Wass goin' on?" she asked groggily.
"Your WW. Ron completed your binding magical contract. You're a genius, love."
A manic look passed over her features as she seemed to fully awaken at his words. She looked like one of those crazed, babbling, evil witches from a muggle fairy tale.
"One down, four to go," she nearly cackled with glee.
TBC...